


Love Isn't as Easy as the Books Make it Seem

by AnotherShotofBourbon



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, the romance novelist and the engineer, vague modern au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherShotofBourbon/pseuds/AnotherShotofBourbon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami Sato is the CEO of a multi-billion dollar, international company. And six months ago she spent four days in a hotel room with a beautiful woman who never called her back. So imagine her surprise when she picks up a harlequin romance novel by her favorite author only to find the story was about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inciting Incident

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of notes before we get into this thing:  
> 1.) This is probably going to be one of the darker stories of mine (if not the darkest), so keep that in mind.  
> 2.) I haven't quite decided how dark I'm going so keep an eye on the tags and warnings, because if need be I will be changing those (I will also do one of these things before anything real bad comes up)  
> 3.) I have no idea what I'm doing!  
> 4.) If you have any hilarious bad romance novel titles I can steal for background jokes, let me know.  
> 5.) Do try to enjoy yourself?

            Asami Sato found herself bookless in the VIP airport lounge. Well, not really bookless. She just finished the book she brought with while she was waiting for the plane to refuel.

            After looking through her enormous e-book collection (which paled in comparison with the actual library that she owned) with total disinterest, she decided to check out the bookstore in the airport that was probably filled with newspapers, gossip magazines, and Peterson novels.

            With her big hat and sunglasses on, Asami made her way to the poorly stocked airport shop. Ok so maybe it wasn’t _that_ poorly stocked. In fact, it had to be one of the better bookstores in an airport that Asami’s ever been in. The benefits of being an international hub.

            She wandered amongst the shelves for a bit, nothing new or intriguing really jumped out at her.

            For a moment she considered trying to finish the Russian masters (again), but her brain immediately protested. She’d been reading reports and summaries and memos for what felt like several years, so this was an occasion for something light and fluffy.

            Harlequin romance section it was.

            Then she saw the whole bookshelf dominated by Marsha Blackwood, Asami’s personal favorite bad romance novelist. Her secret vice. The heiress owned a hard copy of every book ever written by the ludicrously prolific writer (and also the subsequent copies on her e-reader so she could have access to the entire catalog whenever _the need_ arose).

            In just one misguided second, Asami wept for there were no more worlds to conquer, or in her case Blackwood novels to read.

            That was when she turned around and saw a book of partially unpacked new books. A brand new Blackwood book: _The Artist and The Heiress_.

            The cover, in all of its cheesy camp glory, featured two women, one in an overly flowing red dress that defied both fashion and physics and another with toned muscles and paint stained hands reaching for the other woman with a perfect dark tan and perfect tattoos.

            Usually Miss Blackwood was a writer of straight romances, which were fine (it’s not like Asami ever considered herself picky for one gender or the other), but this new title intrigued her. The only other lesbian romance that Blackwood wrote ( _The Conqueror and The Warrior_ [Blackwood isn’t very creative when it comes to titles]) was a very early work of hers, the first if Asami remembered correctly, but also one of the least formulaic.

            Most harlequin romances seem to follow a very strict formula like no other genre. But _The Conqueror and The Warrior_ was a break from the usual tropes and conventions, it was rawer and bleaker and rougher and, let’s be honest here, hotter than any of the other Blackwood novels. In fact, it was Asami’s favorite of her catalog, and she had no less than five copies of it (one digital, one hardcover, three paperbacks in various stages of worn and loved).

            She picked one of the copies off the shelf and went to pay for it in cash.

            The twenty-something hipster cashier scoffed at her selection, and Asami Sato was about to give him a piece of her mind when she realized her face was on a magazine cover about thirty inches away from the cashier’s head.

            She took her change and walked off, back to the VIP section of the airport.

            Hopefully she could lose herself in a trashy romance novel for a few hours as her corporate jet refueled and was cleaned and then continued on her company wide PR campaign to fix her father’s numerous mistakes and was taking her to 15 cities in 9 different countries over the course of two weeks.

            _It was six weeks before the Heiress was to take over her father’s company. And it was six weeks before she’d become the world’s youngest CEO. Before she would do that she was currently inspecting the company holdings in a frozen, empty expanse in Northern Canada. Her thin, tall frame was wrapped in the finest furs her vast fortune could buy, but still she shivered both from the cold and being so terribly alone._

_“Why do we even have a facility this far north?” her frosty breath asked the wind that carried it into the coming snow._

            Asami chuckled to herself. It was like Miss Blackwood had stolen a whole chunk of her life.

            She been in Canada, inspecting one of the R&D sites her company held only a few weeks before her father was caught in a myriad of scandals that got him arrested and forced Future Industries’ stock to plummet to barely $20 a share from the $80 it was sitting at before her father was arrested.

            The four days she spent in the hotel room with a lovely tanned woman that shared her bed, and floor, and shower, and hot tub, and balcony with.

            She smiled at the memory from six months ago, but amusing coincidences aside Asami was thoroughly enjoying herself.

            She managed to get through the first chapter before her plane was ready to depart.

            _Bella finally managed to ditch her responsibilities and security team. Just for one night, or maybe for the weekend, she just wanted to lose herself. Pick someone, anyone, up in a bar or a club, and finally make good use of that queen sized bed in her presidential suite._

_She entered the nearest club, an expensive and exclusive club that was open to her long legs and low cut red dress and her platinum card._

_The Heiress walked into the club like she owned it, tall heels clacking on the floor menacingly soon drowned out by the thumping bass of the music._

_She entered the dance club and found herself at the bar. With an overly expensive, watered down martini in her hand, Bella started to scan the crowd for a partner, or a victim, in a weekend long sex extravaganza._

_However, no one was catching her eye. Disappointed in her choice in hunting grounds, she downed her drink and was considering fetching a limo to another club when smooth, dry fingers brushed her own as she held on to the stem of the still cool martini glass._

_The pale woman looked up to see a stunningly tan bartender looking at her with eyes the color of a frozen lake in the middle of December._

_Her green orbs were immediately lost in the ocean blue depths of the bartender._

_“Get you another one?” asked the deep husky voice that Bella immediately wanted to moan her name._

_She could only nod. She licked her dark red lips in hungry, lusty anticipation._

_The bartender was a beauty, finely cut arms like wood and a low cut, yet extremely fashionable top that showed off a generous cleavage that Bella could dive into._

_She was caught staring as the bartender winked at her while shaking the drink._

_The martini was placed on a napkin before her and the bartender leaned across the bar top, according a luxurious look down her shirt for the green eyes Heiress._

_“This one’s on me,” supple, pale, pink lips whispered in her ear sensuously. “The name’s Nora if you need something to scream tonight.”_

            Asami was grinning with delight as she read it, but when she got to the last line, before she could catch herself, she said aloud, “Her name wasn’t Nora.”

            And like a lightning bolt, it hit her.

            She was the heiress! This was almost exactly how it happened to her six months ago!

            Asami blushed furiously as her crew readied the jet for takeoff. Her mind was suddenly flashing back to the memories of that miraculous four day weekend it wound up becoming. The smells of sex, the feel of her skin on silk sheets, oh god the taste of her.

            Maybe she was going to have to excuse herself to the bathroom to take care of something, when she realized something else: she slept with Marsha Blackwood! Or she slept with someone who was very good friends with Blackwood, and then she wrote a book about it!

            While she frantically dug the paperback out of her bag to continue reading, Asami was cursing herself for not getting that goddess of a woman to call her back.

            Just as she opened to the start of the second chapter, she suddenly remember the name, “Korra!”


	2. Rising Actions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami Sato investigates the nom de plume Marsha Blackwood who knows too much about her sex life. Korra meanwhile struggles to find an appropriate ending to a story and a romance that ended months before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are new to my writings let me be the first to tell you: if I like a story I'm writing I will update it all the damn time, super rapidly. I can finish a multiple chapter stories in days. If I don't like a story I'm writing (*cough* Changing her Story *cough*) I'll update it once every other month.  
> Anyways, here's the second chapter in two days!

            Asami finished the book in record time. She still had two more hours on her flight to Moscow. And currently she was frustrated, in more than one way.

            She was sexually frustrated because at some point she started reading the book in the first person and she was having a hard time separating the fact from the fiction from her sexually explicit imagination, and none of which was helping since it would be wildly inappropriate to go to the bathroom to get herself off. Wouldn’t it? It was a company plane, not a personal one. And her company was having lots of issues with her family and their personal business, and there'd be nothing more personal that masturbating in the bathroom of the company plane.

            Then she was regularly frustrated in general because the author Marsha Blackwood, or perhaps this Korra woman Asami fucked for four days, was almost impossible to find.

            She never gave an interview, never had a picture in the back of any of her books, and as best as Asami could tell, she didn’t really exist. It was a pretty obvious nom de plume, but still…

            Asami considered calling the club, but she couldn’t remember the name of it to save her life, and she was pretty sure that Korra ditched three days worth of shifts to stay in bed with Asami. So that probably got her fired.

            Although she did send an email to the publishing house that printed all of the Blackwood books, but all she got in response was a token, “We respect the wishes of the author, in this case anonymity.” The only thing that surprised her was the fact that she got a response at 1am New York time.

            It looked like she only had one option left if she wanted to meet Miss Blackwood, or as it happened, meet again (unless this Korra woman wasn’t Blackwood and just a close friend who happened to over share). She pulled up her lawyer and accountant’s emails. Briefly she considered suing the publishing house for libel, but that would only put her under scrutiny and make her sexual history even more public that it was already. That was something she was very against.

            Besides, owning her own publishing company could be fun. Also expensive. Then again, what’s the point of owning a multi-billion dollar company and being on the Forbes 500 riches people list if you don’t spend it?

            With orders to try and buy Avatar Publishing, and after doing as much research as she possibly could manage with a laptop on a plane on the wrong side of the dateline, Asami settled back into her cushy leather seat and opened the book again.

            She almost forgot about what they did in the hot tub. God, the repair bill was almost ten grand. But it was totally worth it.

            The memory of going down on Korra and then having her accidentally rip one of the faucets out of the wall and partially flooding the room would be the memory that would keep her warm in the dark, lonely, Moscow hotel room that night.

 

* * *

 

            Meanwhile, in a hemisphere away, Korra had been in Thunder Bay for a couple of weeks. She'd been making her way east for a couple of months. All the way from Victoria to her ultimate destination in New York City.

            Four months ago she’d packed up all her stuff in her busted ass van, all of her worldly possessions, Naga the half-polar bear half-dog all best friend, and moved. Now she was sitting there in her shit apartment in Thunder Bay, staring at her typewriter.

            She had gotten tired of her bartending nights, writing days. Sure she was close to her parents and whatnot, but life had felt so static there. Korra was listless there, it was hard to describe. The kind of manic energy and the pendulum swinging back into grey fog of depression. The city was suffocating.

            It also helped the moving process when she had a four night stand and lost her job. It was totally worth it though.

            She got to have some wild and awesome sex for like four whole days, in the presidential suite in the most expensive hotel in the city.

            Truth be told Korra was a little upset. She’d put her number in the obscenely rich woman’s (who really knew how to use her hands) phone. But it had been six months. Six months of a stunning silence. Quiet had never felt so alone.

            Oh who was Korra kidding? It was just a one night stand that just so happened to last longer than one night. What reason would the rich woman have to call her? She probably had a lover in every city.

            But damn it there was _something_ there. Right? It wasn’t just great sex (and it was great sex). They’d talked and cuddled and laughed. They shared room service and a love of bad movies on the pay-per-view. And holy fuck was she attractive. Legs that went longer than seemed physically possible. Those breasts, that hair, fucking shit those eyes.

            It just sucks that the name Asami has been ruined her for her forever.

            And that she never got an ending to that story. Their story. Just a kiss goodbye and a couple of false promises.

            Maybe that absence was an ending in and of itself. Silence is an end isn’t it? Nothing is how everything ultimately ends.

            That fucking sucks.

            But it also gave her ideas. Korra sat down at her frankly antique typewriter and finally started to write that ending to their story, the end to her book. Not the fairy tale ending that she wrote in her dime store romance novel either. That was a concession to formula, wishful thinking, a dream of how Korra wanted it to end.

            No, this story doesn’t end happily. It ends quietly and it ends alone.

            At least Tenzin will be happy she finally finished her story collection, her novel. For a second she smiled that she was writing an epilogue to her novel _Epilogues._

            Now she just had to figure out how to describe silence, an absence of words, with words. How does she write about that empty void, that ache in her chest?

            Fuck.

 

* * *

 

            Maybe it was because she didn’t really like the city. Maybe it was because she really hated her job there. Maybe it was because when she finally admitted to herself she’d never see the beautiful Asami again, never hear her call out Korra’s name softly in the dead of night with her face between her legs.

            Either way, Korra felt her time at Thunder Bay more quickly than she had other towns.

            She was beginning to feel even more restless than she did back in Victoria.

            Korra mailed her finished manuscript to Tenzin at the publishing house in New York with a thin promise to be there soon two days before she left Thunder Bay. And with a short layover in Niagara Falls so that Naga could run around and play, Korra finally bit the bullet and traveled into the States and decided to make it to New York in one day.

            The trip took longer than expected (somehow she got lost twice in that wretched place known only as West Virginia) so she found the first hotel that let her keep Naga in the room she could in the city and blew the last of her cash on the cheapest room she possibly could.

            Mere moments after Korra deposited her luggage and Naga in her room and shut the door, Asami Sato entered the hotel she technically owned and went to the penthouse.

            The estranged pair passed each other silently and without so much as an inkling that they were in the same city or the same building or same hemisphere for the first time in weeks.

            Asami was exhausted from her trip and just wanted to sleep, so it was doubtful she would have noticed Korra even if she did see her.

            The LA offices were in something just shy of chaos, and it took much longer than she expected to put out those fires. And in the morning she had a meeting with the owners of Avatar Publishing, a Tenzin and Pema (Asami had already forgotten their last name). They’d flat out told her people they refused to sell their majority shares in the company, it had been in their family for years. It was something Asami empathized with.

            So instead she just had her people buy as much of the remaining stock as they could, with totaled her with a 15% stake in the company. That made her the largest single investor in the company and the owners were eager to meet with her and find out what her deal was.

            Fortunately, or unfortunately, Asami’s deal and sole interest in the company was currently snoring in a bed, curled up to a dog that looked like a bear, forty floors below her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, you wanna play a fun game? You can try and guess where the nuggets of my personal truth are in this story (there are a few). I'll give you a hint: I actually had a very short running series of short stories entitled Epilogues. There is a catch though: I won't tell you if you guess them.  
> Also much props to kittymannequin for being a swell sounding board.


	3. Crossing the Threshold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami meets with the owners of Avatar Publishing, the house that published the Marsha Blackwood novels.

            Asami got up bright and early, just like she had every day for a very long time, despite how much she wanted to sleep. However, on the second floor of the hotel, Korra was cursing the blinds that didn’t close all the way and curled up into a tighter ball next to Naga.

            The rich woman was out of her room just as the sun was dawning. She was one of the first in line for the hotel’s coffee station. After what most people would consider too much coffee and a bagel with three packets of cream cheese, Asami was as ready for the day as she’d ever be.

            The Avatar Publishing House meeting was set for nine, which gave Asami a little over an hour to start by the office and do some checking up on things.

            Of course the actual business was boring and tedious and completely ineffectual at taking her mind off of the meeting before her.

            Asami had helped negotiate hostile takeovers of billion dollar companies before. And here she was, nervous at the prospect of being an investor in a mom-and-pop publishing house that was the home to her favorite romance novelist. Maybe it was because she slept with said novelist or someone very, very close to her.

            The publisher was barely even worth ten million dollars! Asami had no _real_ reason to be this nervous.

            Instead she arrived fifteen minutes early to the tiny office of Avatar. It comprised of a single floor in a New York high rise, it was altogether cramped, cluttered, filled with papers and books and desks crammed into tiny offices and it smelled of old paper and ink.

            Something stirred deep in Asami’s chest, near where she assumed her soul would be if she had ever been accused of having one (she never was).

            That feeling was telling her something very strange. It felt like a home. It felt like she had just stepped into someone’s house, a close friend’s residence. Her mind quickly shied away from that all encompassing, dark feeling the one that she dared not even think, not give a silent voice to the thought: this felt like her home, if there was ever such a thing. Memories pressed in along with this feeling, this crushing, enveloping feeling. Memories of happier times, of people long gone, and the dream she had of herself as a better person.

            And for all of her incredible wealth Asami would have left it all behind to hold on to that feeling, that strange, surreal feeling, that feeling of home.

            But it was fleeting, as a teenage girl with a side bun approached her.

            “Are you Miss Sato?” she asked.

            “Yes,” Asami said as she offered her hand.

            The teenager took it warily. “My parents will be ready shortly. Do you need something to drink? Water?”

            “Do you have any coffee?”

            “Yeah. Hey Ikki, go tell mom and dad their meeting is here,” she called to her bored looking younger sister who immediately took off at a full sprint into the deep, paper labyrinth of the office, rustling papers as she went.

            The teenager gave her the cup of fairly decent, but piping hot coffee. “I’m Jinora by the way.”

            “I’m Asami Sato, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

            “Why are you here?” Jinora asked bitingly.

            Asami sputtered slightly. “I was… I uh… it’s complicated?”

            Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to take over our company? My grandfather started this publisher and we aren’t just going to give it up.”

            Before the investor could respond and tall balding man with a fairly impressive beard and a chipper looking woman came up to Asami.

            “Hello!” the woman said. “I’m Pema, this is my husband Tenzin. I see you met our daughters Jinora and Ikki.”

            “Hello,” Asami said. “I just wanted to apologize. I have lawyers and accountants and I pay them a good amount of money to do law and money and not for their tact. I didn’t want them to try and force you out of your company. I just wanted to see if you were interested in selling or looking for investors. Sorry.”

            “Come, let’s go sit in our office,” Tenzin said. Then he turned to his gaze to his children. “Girls.”

            The trio sat down in an office with a pair of very nice, very old, dark wood desks pushed together, covered in papers and books and ink.

            Asami sat across from Tenzin and Pema.

            “We have to ask,” Tenzin started, somewhat haltingly and awkward, “what is your interest in our company?”

            “I apologize, again,” Asami answer. “I’m just a big fan of almost everything you publish. I didn’t mean for it to seem like a takeover. I just wanted to support your business somehow, and I guess my big business tact has left the wrong impression. I don’t want you to stop anything you’re doing, I just want to help.”

            “That’s lovely,” Pema beamed. “We always could use some extra help around here.”

            Asami smiled awkwardly. “I’m afraid I won’t be of much help unless you need something machined or taken apart. I mean I could probably help with PR or finances, but I can’t write or edit anything to save my life.”

            This was unlike any other investor meeting she has ever sat in on. Every other one was all about where her money was going and what the future for the company was. But it seemed like Asami had inadvertently bought her way into another job. Or maybe a family.

            “Uh… so what are you plans for this company?” Asami asked trying to steer the conversation back into an area that made sense to her.

            Tenzin pointed to a large, rather goofy picture of a man with a very similar hair style. “My father, Aang, started this publisher. He wanted to bring stories to everyone, stories by people who wouldn’t normally get published, stories that could save and stir. His philosophy was that if we published a story that saved even one person, we’ve done our jobs.”

            “That’s beautiful,” Asami said honestly.

            Tenzin offered a weary smile that showed the lines in his face. “But unfortunately it doesn’t pay the bills like we’d like it to.”

            “Other than our romances,” Pema said. “Marsha Blackwood is essentially our bread and butter.”

            Tenzin sighed.

            “I can tell,” Asami said then quickly trying to cover, “by all of the books she’s written. She’s quite prolific.”

            “That she is,” Pema agreed. “We usually get a manuscript every six months or so.”

            “What can you tell me about her?” Asami asked. “I’m intrigued by someone who can write that much, in what, seven years?”

            “You know, we’ve never actually met her,” Pema said leaning in. “She just mails us the books and we publish them.”

            “How do you pay her?” Asami asked.

            “Direct deposit,” Tenzin remarked. “And even if we did know who Miss Blackwood was, we wouldn’t tell you. Because she values her privacy quite highly. But I can tell you about one of our newest writers. Zhu Li Varrick called the advanced copy we sent her an award winner for sure, possibly the best meta-fiction of the year.”

            “Meta-fiction?” Asami asked instantly.

            “The book is a collection of stories, of a sort,” Tenzin tried to explain before Pema cut it.

            “Our writer is calling it _Epilogues_ , and she’s basically writing the endings to all sorts of stories that she’s never going to tell, the only thing the reader gets is the ending. Some of the stories are nonfiction some are fiction most are somewhere in between. And it is really interesting to try and figure out which ones are the real ones and which ones are the fiction ones,” Pema said excitedly. “We just got the final manuscript in today, and I’m excited to sit down and read it.”

            “I’m excited for it to come out too,” Asami said. “I can’t wait to buy my copy.”

            “Oh, nonsense,” Pema said as she took the heavy, bound manuscript in her hands and stood up, “Ikki can you come here please?”

            The younger daughter ran up to Pema who handed her the tome. “Yeah mom?”

            “Korra sent us the final manuscript, can you please make copies for everyone. And one for Miss Sato?”

            “Yeah!” Ikki yelled as she once again sped off into the depths of the office.

            “You can call me Asami.”

            “Sorry, force of habit.”

            “You didn’t have to get me a copy.”

            “It’s no trouble,” Pema said, sitting down next to her husband.

            Several minutes of small talk later, the excitable Ikki appeared with warm, freshly bound _Epilogues_ for everyone.

            Asami looked at hers in awe. This was the first time she’d ever gotten an advanced copy of any book. And then there was the name on it.

_Epilogues_

_By Korra_

            She couldn’t help but smile. It looked so much like a small child was turning in something, but the massive, couple hundred page novel suggested otherwise.

            And she couldn’t help but think if this had anything to do with the magical Korra she spent four glorious nights sleeping with. If Korra and Blackwood were the same person, then it would make sense to use the same publisher. Maybe this would work out for Asami after all.

            “Thank you, I look forward to reading it,” Asami said. “But if you’ll excuse me, I have to be getting to some meetings with some people from the SEC about my father and our company.”

            “No worries,” Pema said. “Come by whenever.”

            Asami held on to the manuscript like it was made of gold. She went to the elevator and pushed the call button already eagerly flipping through pages.

            During the elevator ride down Asami read through the dedication (” _To my parents for putting up with me for this long.”_ ) and the table of contents.

            It was going to be an interesting read. With chapter titles like, “The Robot” or “The First Love” or “Treason” how could it not be? But the title of the last chapter caught her eye: “The Romance”.

            Maybe it was because she thought she knew this Korra woman, in the biblical sense of the word. Maybe it was because she came here looking for a romance novelist. Maybe it was because in the deepest recesses of her unconscious mind, that was something Asami was desperately searching for.

            Whatever it was she flipped pages till she reached the last chapter. The epilogue.

            _“We had a great run, her and I._

_We had a feeling that could have once been called love, but the bitter passage of time tainted into lust._

_A brief moment of connection that was punctuated with intimate physical contact._

_Lips that once promised the moon, promised dates and love and sex where filled with lies in retrospect. All of those promises were false, all of those vows of contact turned to silence._

_Silence is one that suffocates and smothers and is all encompassing._

_I gave her everything of me and in return I got silence._

_Moans and screams and whispers replaced with silence._

_The silence is a scar upon my soul._

_But scars heal._

_I am scarred and wounded and I’ll live. I’ll move on. I always have, I always will._

_But the silence…_

_The silence I will carry with me forever. Because silence can only be broken by her voice, the one I’ll never hear again._

_And no matter who I find to fill that silence in my soul, it will have been there already, waiting. And when that person is gone the silence will return._

_I gave ever everything and in return I have become silent.”_

            Asami finished the end of the book of endings and her heart was breaking. It didn’t matter if Korra was Blackwood, or if this Korra was the same Korra that Asami spent all that time with, she empathized with this. She knew the unbearable pain of silence, in more than one way.

            She brushed a series of tears out of her eyes as she approached the ground floor.

            But she was struck by a thought. If this Korra was the same Korra (and how popular was the name Korra anyway?) then how dare she put this on Asami! She’d given her Canadian lover almost two hundred business cards. She stuffed them in every available pocket of that ludicrous coat Korra wore that night.

            Asami was conflicted with equal parts sadness and rage as she exited the elevator and walked right into a solid wall of muscle.

            She looked into the ocean blue eyes of the person she ran into and the apology died in her throat.

            Korra had finally made it to the publishing house after her late check-out of the hotel and getting lost in the dense New York streets. And the first thing she did was run into that black hair, green eyed goddess she slept with and never heard from again.

            “You!” Asami said, almost snarling.

            Korra gaped for a second. “Why are you holding my book?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be more chapter very soon if I can get off my dumb ass and get to editing. Bleeeeeh editing.


	4. Refusal of the Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is less of a conversation and more of a one-sided argument with lots of yelling. Also approximately 1,200 business cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What was originally two chapters has been reconstituted into one chapter. I've got a long ass weekend ahead of me (not the fun kind) so updates will be probably postponed until sometime next week.

            The numbers ticked by slowly on the elevator display as it rose steadily in the late morning. The sole occupants of the tiny metal box were the heiress and the artist.

            Both were stunned into silence.

            Then halfway to the artist’s destination Asami spoke, “You’re Blackwood, aren’t you?”

            A blush covered the entirety of Korra’ face and neck. “You read it then.”

            “Yeah.”

            “What did you think?”

            Asami struggled to put all of her emotions into word, to voice the turmoil in her chest. “I… You… Ugh!”

            “That bad?” Korra asked with a wince played across her face.

            “The book was fucking stupid on like seven different levels,” Asami burst, a stream of uncontrolled emotion. Rage, hurt, bliss, unbridled joy, familiar abandonment. “You fucking left out the time we spent in the hotel roof, which was fucking magical, it was goddamn amazing and you fucking cut it! The entire third act was fucking ridiculous pipe dream that only works in your goddamn penny dreadful pieces of shit. You wrote about my sex life! Our private moments! Our most intimates of intimates! And you just published it for everyone to read! Did you ever stop to think what that would do to me? Jesus Christ! And then there is this fucking piece of shit!” Asami shook Korra’s book in her face. “Don’t you fucking dare put this whole silence bullshit on me. Don’t you even fucking think about it. I could have fallen hard for you. I gave you every fucking opportunity to do something, _anything_ , to find me. My company’s number is fucking publically listed. There were so many options open to you, even if you somehow managed to miss the entire stack of business cards I gave you, and you fucking sat there doing goddamn nothing. So don’t you fucking dare blame me for your hurt bullshit.”

            Just as she finished yelling at the attractive, stunned woman before her, the elevator doors opened, depositing Asami right back where she started.

            “So that’s a no for getting a cup of coffee?” Korra asked.

            Asami almost screamed. Instead she just violently shoved Korra out of the elevator and pushed the ground floor button while slamming the door close button.

            Never had Korra seen green eyes so close resemble fire.

            “I see you met our newest investor,” Jinora said with a frown.

            Korra spun around. “What?”

            “Miss Sato, she just dropped like a fifty thousand dollars to become the largest single investor in Avatar,” Jinora explained with her arms folded across her chest in the classic defensive position.

            “Oh no,” Korra moaned.

            “You wrote about her didn’t you?”

            “Twice.”

            “Korra…”

            “Jinora, just don’t… Please?”

            “Is this going to be like Mako all over again?”

            Korra shook her head. “No. Because Mako was easy compared to what this is going to be.”

            “What’s this going to be?”

            “It would be like trying to fight a predator drone with nothing but a hunting knife and a helmet while being buck naked,” Korra muttered as she slammed her head into the nearest wall.

            She didn’t get it. Why was Asami so pissed at her? How was any of this on her? In the romance, that no one knew she wrote, she gave Asami the flattering position, the better character, the better story, the better everything.

            And somehow she’d gotten her hands on _Epilogues._ But that was just emotions, raw and bitter and hurt emotions on a page. It was one of the numerous ways Korra coped.

            How dare Asami blame Korra for the silence?

            Korra had given Asami her number. It was there in that phone that was practically glued to the rich woman’s hand.

            What else was she supposed to do? Stalk her? Cause that wouldn’t put her in prison. And Korra didn’t even know what company Asami even worked for. What the fuck was she talking about?

            “Come on,” Jinora said as she grabbed Korra’s arm. “Mom and Dad are eager to see you.”

            Internally Korra was still pouting. She’d barely been awake for an hour and it was already the worst day ever.

            The rest of Korra’s day was impossible. She’d forgotten how impossibly hyper active Ikki and Meelo could be. If the road trip that took four whole months wasn’t exhausting enough, the wild children took what strength seemed to be left. Which wasn’t much given the one-sided shouting match that happened in the elevator.

            Korra was weary when she finally got to say hi to Tenzin and Pema.

            After hugs and hello’s and chitchat about the move and everything, Pema and Jinora offered to help Korra bring all of her stuff to their little apartment. Korra tried to refuse, but the family were the most hospitable people on the planet, and Korra didn’t have a place to sleep.

            Despite being three different kinds of tired, Korra had to get back into her shitty ass van, with Jinora giving directions from the back with Naga, to move (again).

            It took longer than Korra expected to get everything into the four bedroom apartment the family shared. They just had to live on the fifth floor without a working elevator.

            By the time it was all said and done, she was ready to just collapse on the couch she was going to claim as her bed, but poor Naga had other ideas. She had spent too long in the cramped confines of the van and demanded to go on a walk.

            Thankfully, Korra managed to convince Jinora to do it, so she could remain motionless on the couch.

            After several minutes of staring at the off-white ceiling, pondering exactly what the fuck happened with Asami, Korra tried to move, but the thoughts of the relationship that plagued her deadened her muscles.

            For the first time ever, Korra felt bad about something that she wrote. And not that “oh man this fucking sucks but I’m submitting it anyway” kind of way, which is what she felt fairly often when it came to being Blackwood.

            Now she felt bad because somehow, she still didn’t know how, Asami took the story as offense. One of her complaints was the she gave them the happy ending she wanted. How was that a bad thing? Was it because the happy ending was the fiction and the break up (was that what that was?) was nonfiction?

            Korra frowned deep enough that for an instant she wondered if it would leave a permanent line.

            If Asami didn’t want to be written about she should have been so interesting, so hot, so goddamn amazing and perfect. Korra decided she wouldn’t let Asami’s feelings about that make her feel bad.

            No, what did make her feel bad, well more hurt than bad, was that somehow Asami blamed her for all of this. How was any of this her fault?

            What the hell did Asami mean when she’d left it all in Korra’s hands? Korra had no way of contacting her. She didn’t even know her last goddamn name!

            Korra groaned, letting her frustration seep past her vocal chords.

            She sat up and pulled the nearest box towards her, it just so happened to be the one with her typewriter in it. Something had to be done to get this frustration out, even if it was just Korra yelling and banging her head against the keys.

            For a second she entertained the thought about writing another ending, fixing the one she just turned in. Updating the silence to include the explosive end that breaks the initial quite and serves only to make the absolute nothing that follows all the more unbearable.

            But that would require effort and creativity and submitting another damn manuscript. Korra just really wanted her endings to be over.

            Just as she was about to start writing something angry and angsty and stupid, Jinora returned with Naga.

            “You need some help finding a place for all of your stuff?” she asked.

            Korra sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

            “We can put some stuff here in this closet, and I think we’ve got a set of drawers around her somewhere,” Jinora said as she started opening boxes.

            The first one was Korra’s winter stuff, boots, gloves, hats, and an absolutely massive white coat.

            “Holy crap,” Jinora said holding it up. “This looks like the warmest thing I’ve ever seen.”

            “It’s like wearing a blanket made of hot chocolate as a coat,” Korra said as Jinora slipped it on. “I haven’t worn it since we got that blizzard at the end of last winter.”

            “Oh my god,” Jinora said from beneath the hood. “Where did you get this? I need seven.”

            “You’d have to ask my mom, she got it for me back when I went to college in Alaska.”

            Jinora slipped her hand in the front pockets and pulled out a business card, “What’s this?”

            Korra looked up from where she was staring into a box. “What’s what?”

            “Why do you have a business card for Asami Sato in the pocket?” Jinora asked. “Jesus, there’s like eighty of them in this pocket. And in this one too!”

            “That was the coat I was wearing when I met her!” Korra shrieked as she pulled the jacket off of Jinora and started rifling through every single pocket.

            It took almost twenty minutes to get every business card out of the coat. When they stacked them all up, the pile was four inches tall.

            “How the hell did you not notice two hundred business cards stuffed in your jacket?” Jinora asked in awe while she stared at the pile.

            “I wore it that night because it was snowing and cold, but by the time I left, it was warm and then spring hit and I never wore it again,” Korra said, unable to take her eyes off the stack.

            She pulled one off the top and flipped it over. In scratchy, but legible, penmanship Korra could read the note Asami scrawled.

            _“Oh my god Korra, that thing you did with your teeth while we were on the floor was amazing. Call me.”_

            Heat and blood rushed to Korra’s face as she pulled off another business card and read, “ _I want to bury my face in between your legs and fuck you with my tongue for hours. Call me.”_

            “What is it?” Jinora asked.

            “No!” Korra shouted as she slapped Jinora’s hand away.

            “Ow!”

            “You’re too young for this kind of stuff!” Korra said loudly, hoping the volume of her voice would drown out the embarrassment, unfortunately it did just the opposite.

            “Korra, I’m eighteen. I know how sex works. And I’ve read your books,” she said. The last statement was said very pointedly right at Korra.

            “You… know?” Korra gulped.

            “Korra, please. You use your real life experiences for your books. I know about both Mako and Kuvira.”

            “Well, it was nice seeing you guys,” Korra stood up. “I’m going to go back to Canada now and die on an iceberg. Excuse me.”

            “If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure mom knows too.”

            “Oh my god, I’m ruined,” Korra slumped onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. “This is the worst fucking day.”

            “Korra,” Jinora said patiently. “No one cares. Your books are probably the only thing that is keeping the publisher even open. You’re our bread and butter. No one else brings in the money like you do. I mean what else would? Uncle Bumi’s poetry? Dad’s meditation guides?”

            “Your fantasy novels,” Korra responded. “You’d make a killing if you actually tried to sell any of them.”

            “I told you that in confidence!”

            “Now you know how it feels.”

            “So what now?” Jinora asked.

            “Is moving back to Canada out of the question? Can I bury myself alive?”

            “I don’t know what you need to hide from.”

            “You read the book so you know the first half of the story. There wasn’t a happy ending. We just kind of parted ways. And then I wrote a book about her, and now she’s pissed that I did because I didn’t call her. And apparently I’m the thickest person in the universe because I missed all of that,” Korra motioned to the stack of business cards.

            She picked one up and read, _“Fuck me Korra. Seriously. Please fuck me.”_

            “If you read the last story in _Epilogues_ you’ll know why Asami never wants to see me again,” Korra finished.

            “That bad?”

            “Worse. I’m pretty sure I need to apologize or something, but would it even work? Would she even consent to seeing me again? There is a chasm between us, it is vast and it is expansive and uncrossable, and I’m the one that dug it. I don’t think there’s any fixing this.”

            “Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jinora said with a reassuring pat on Korra’s knee before she returned to the packing boxes and helped Korra put away her belongings.

            Korra pulled one more business card off the pile and turned it over.

            _“Korra, we just got back from the hotel roof. Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve ever had a more perfect evening in my entire life. If you don’t call me back after all of this is done, I will hunt you down.”_

            “Oh goddamn it,” Korra muttered.

 

* * *

 

            It had been a week since Asami had been to Avatar Publishing and ran into Korra again.

            She was angry when she left, pissed when she got home that evening and absolutely livid when she reread the final chapter of _Epilogues_.

            She tried to find Korra, but she had no way of contacting her. The names in her phone went from Knight to Kovinsky without anything in the middle. Asami even searched through the several hundred names for anything even remotely close to the name “Korra” and there was nothing.

            How dare she put the blame on her?

            And yet, here she was, one week later reading _Epilogues_ for the second time.

            Asami hate read it the first time. She wanted to know, with morbid curiosity, if Korra had used her for shit dime-store novel fodder any other times.

            But by the end of the first time, Asami felt her anger lessening, it was by no means gone.

            Despite her better judgment, Asami found herself warming to Korra all over again. Hell if some of these endings were real and Asami’s imagination wasn’t reading too much into it, then she empathized with Korra more than she ever know she could with anyone.

            The manuscript was sitting on her coffee table, and like a black hole it was drawing her attention once again.

            But Asami was saved as she reached out for it by her cell phone ringing. A bright chipper tone.

            She looked at the ID and read, “Lora, Sex Goddess”.

            Asami’s eyes narrowed at her ringing phone. Wasn’t Lora the name of the one weird girl she made out with once in Tennessee at that conference? It had to have been five years ago now. It could have been Lorraine, but Asami couldn’t remember. All she did remember for sure is that the girl from Tennessee was crazy clingy and a borderline stalker.

            She swore she had an auto-reject for that number, but strange things happen when she changes phones and syncs address books and such.

            Convinced it was someone she really did not want to talk to, Asami felt justified in hitting the reject button.

            A second later the phone buzzed again indicating a voice mail, but Asami was already beyond the event horizon of Korra’s book.

            When she got up for work the next day (after falling asleep reading _Epilogues_ till three in the morning), she found a bouquet of flowers outside her door. It was orchids and roses and violets in a stunning arrangement.

            She smiled, but didn’t see a note. Asami brought the flowers inside and carefully followed the instructions about putting them in water. Her talents never extended to growing anything or keeping it alive for any length of time, but this was too beautiful to neglect.

            When she arrived at her office she suspected today was going to be a good day, and for the most part it was. Her company was doing well because the employees seemed happy and were doing their jobs. Her father’s scandals were finally starting to slip out of the limelight, even if the seriousness of his crimes were not.

            A little bit before lunch, Asami’s assistant handed her two slim packages.

            “Your order of business cards arrived.”

            “Oh,” Asami said. She must have forgotten she ordered more. She did go through a whole sleeve for Korra, which caused a frown when she thought of it.

            She took the first box and opened it to see a row of perfect business cars with her name and contact information.

            That was when she noticed the other box was opened already.

            She slipped the package open and there were another 500 cars. These also had her and such all over the front, but on the back, in something that resembled hieroglyphics or very bad handwriting, were the words, “I’m so sorry.”

            The first fifty or so were just apologies. Then after that there were just three or four words per card.

            “ _Asami, I’m sorry/ So so sorry/ God you must/ think I’m such/ an idiot/ and I’m a big/ one, like huge./ I didn’t wear/ that coat since that/ night because it/ was much too warm/ no excuse but/ still I’m sorry./ I hope you got/ the flowers that I/ sent you this/ morning and I/ tried to call you/ last night but/ you didn’t answer/ and I don’t/ blame you./ I barely want to/ talk to me./ I hope you’ll/ at least let/ me apologize/ face to face/ (and you have/ such a lovely/ face.)/ I don’t know/ where to go/ from here./ I like you/ quite a bit/ but you’re so/ justifiably/ pissed at me/ and I wish/ that we were/ friends at least./ Do you think/ that we might/ be able to/ get back to that/ point?/ Or maybe/ just get there/ for the first/ time? ;)/ Also I think/ if I keep/ apologizing/ you’ll start to/ get annoyed with/ me even more/ than you are/ right now/ but I still/ have like 300/ more cards to/ go and now I/ started I can’t/ just leave the/ rest blank and/ sad so maybe/ I’ll draw you/ some pictures./ But I should/ warn you/ if you think/ my handwriting/ is bad you/ should brace/ yourself./ Here’s a picture/ of my pet/ dog, or is/ she a bear?/ Her name is Naga.”_

            What came next were a series of very poorly drawn, in a charming sort of way, pictures of a fluff ball with legs and a vaguely dog shaped head. Then there was a picture of a long necked giraffe whose neck took up several cards, and a picture of a very cute, very happy looking whale.

            After several more cards worth of animals (Asami’s favorite being the elephant with glasses) she was nearing the end where Korra informed her that it was almost four in the morning and she was running out of ideas for animals. What she put instead was her name and number all over the back of the remaining fifty or so business cards.

            During her lunch hour Asami contemplated the events with Korra both recent and not so recent.

            She spent four months being angry at Korra for not responding to her. Anger that she felt was justified, but maybe it wasn’t. Then there were the stories that Asami felt… not quite violated but caught off guard by.

            Again, she wasn’t entirely sure if her anger was justified. Someone had told her story, one that she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be told by anyone. But it isn’t like anyone knew it was her. The Blackwood novel was completely lacking in personal details, or if there were any they were obscured by purple prose and explicit sex. _Epilogues_ in all of its meta-fictional glory was impossibly sparse on details. Asami doubted that anyone who didn’t know both women would be able to guess that it was about them.

            Her head was telling her to forgive Korra, but her heart wasn’t so quickly swayed. She’d always been cautious when it came to these things, and the way things so completely fell apart with Korra before only reinforced her wary nature.

            Feelings are hard. Feelings are dumb. Things would just be so much easier if she didn’t have to deal with it.

            Those thoughts weighed heavily upon the mind of the CEO for the rest of the day. To call Korra or not to call… To forgive and forget or to remember and resent… There was no middle ground.

            Do or do not.

            She couldn’t make up her mind, nor could she be distracted by the numerous problems that arose the second half of the day.

            Her traditional mind clearing, problem solving, solution (riding her motorcycle around the labyrinthine road ways of New York) didn’t help at all. Although, it did wonders for calming her down. Now that she felt like her nervous and tumultuous emotions were under wraps again, she could make a rational, well reasoned decision, or at least use those tools she’d always considered her strongest to help her make a decision.

            Asami was already making lists in her head, pros and cons and weighing emotions and possibilities and imagining impossible scenarios and inventing arguments. But all of that fell away like dust when she opened the door to her suite and saw the bouquet of flowers Korra sent.

            She reached for her phone and the business card Korra had written her number on.

            After carefully dialing the number, it popped up as a saved number.

            “What?” Asami asked as her finger slipped and hit the dial button.

            The phone read, “Dialing Lora, Sex Goddess”.

            “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Asami said.

            “Hello?” came the voice from the other end of the phone.

            A wave of guilt flooded through her and chilled her bones and blood. “Korra?” she asked, repressing a shiver.

            “Asami?”

            “Hey, yeah. I got your apology.”

            “And?”

            Asami finally let loose the shudder that had built up in her chest, she felt the goose bumps and chill sweep through her along with a whole new set of conflicting emotions. Her nerves were instantly back, despite all of the calming motorcycle riding from earlier.

            She took a deep breath and said, “We need to talk.”


	5. Initation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months prior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blows into conch shell* SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT  
> Eagle-eyed readers will notice that the rating changed because of SMUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT. So that's happening this chapter.

**Six Months Prior**

            “My name’s Korra, you know,” the bartender’s fingers were cold as they brushed against Asami’s warm ones as she put the martini glass down, “you know… if…”

            _Oh my god, she’s fucking stuttering through her own pickup line. She’s such a dork. But damn does she have nice tits._

            Korra rubbed the back of her neck and blushed while turned her gaze anywhere else but the green eyed, red dressed beauty sitting at the bar before her.

            “Oh man,” she sighed. Asami loved every second of it. “If- I can’t believe I’m saying this…”

            “Oh I don’t mind,” Asami responded as she rested her chin on her hands and waited patiently for Korra to finish whatever horrible pickup line she had prepared. “Please continue.”

            For a second, in the slight dark red lipped smile and intelligent green eyed gaze that made Korra feel almost like she was being hunted.

            “Ifyouneedsomethingtomoantonight,” Korra breathed out all in one go before immediately turning on her heal and practically running to the other end of the bar to pour shots for some other patrons.

            All the while Asami was smiled into her martini, grinning uncontrollably as the attractive bartender moved about her work space.

            When Korra came back to Asami to refill her drink, the patron said, “You know, your line would have been a real panty dropper…”

            When Asami trailed off, Korra went back to rubbing the back of her neck. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. I’ll try to get it off- out!- all in one go next time.”

            “If I was wearing any,” Asami said with a wink.

            And that left Korra well and truly speechless. As her brain struggled to make the connections between her grey matter and the pale lips and her tongue, Asami tipped generously.

            “Say if a girl was looking for something, or someone, fun to do for a weekend, where would she go to find that? Or more accurately when?” Asami asked.

            “Close! I don’t close tonight,” Korra stammered, almost falling over herself to answer. “I get off in two hours.”

            “And then with any luck a half hour later,” Asami said.

            Once again Korra averted her eyes, looking at the bar top, the other patrons, the floor, the ceiling, anything but Asami’s piercing gaze. It was in that moment that the green eyed huntress felt overly predatory.

            A tense, uncomfortable atmosphere surrounded the pair and was only punctuated by the thumping bass.

            Before Asami could give voice to her apology, Korra had been summoned away to do drinks and clean before her early club shift was over. It was still early and the real partiers hadn’t gone out yet.

            Asami was still operating on East Coast time, so it felt late to her.

            The next time Korra came over, Asami preempted whatever she was going to say with, “Sorry if I was coming on too strong. I don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

            Korra gave her a confident, wry half smile. “Nah, I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned.”

            Asami’s chest grew warm as she got lost for a second in Korra’s eyes and that smile that had just a sliver of mischievousness trapped inside.

            “Well my hotel room is like two blocks away,” Asami finally managed to get out.

            Korra looked around the bar and said, “Hey you want to see something cool?”

            Asami shrugged and stood up off the bar chair. Korra, eager to get going, just vaulted over the bar and stood next to the high heel wearing heiress who stood several inches over Korra.

            “Wow you’re tall,” Korra breath looking up.

            “Wow you’re hot,” Asami responded.

            They were standing very close together.

            “Yes I am,” Korra responded confidently. She reached out and grabbed Asami’s hand, “Come on.”

            Korra’s now warm hand grasped Asami’s and she pulled her through the crowd to a back door that said “Employees Only”.

            They walked through the back for a minute before stopping at a nondescript door. Korra looked over her shoulders to make sure no one was around, opened the door and pulled Asami up the stairs.

            “Where are we?”

            “My manager’s office. He’s out on the floor for the shift change,” Korra answered as the thumping sounds of the club suddenly died. “The whole room is sound proofed. But this is what I wanted to show you.”

            At the top of the stairs was a very nice office with a one-way mirror that looked over the club.

            From here they could see the throngs of people, the lights, the neon, the dancers, but it was all one step removed. They were above the mess of people, the music couldn’t reach them here.

            It was strangely peaceful.

            Korra was still holding her hand.

            “I really want to kiss you right now,” Korra said.

            She was the only person Asami could think of that had asked for her permission. With a smile she responded, “What are you waiting for?”

            Asami leaned down to bring her red lips to bear on Korra’s pale ones.

            It started off chastely enough until Asami felt Korra’s impressively strong arms wrap around her waist and pull her in close. She let out a surprised and pleased little gasp into Korra’s mouth before closing her eyes and surrendering to it.

            Perfect was a strong word to describe anything, at least that was how Asami felt up until that very moment in time.

            She felt Korra’ tongue slip lightly against her lips as they pulled away.

            “Damn,” Korra whispered.

            “I’ve got a very large hotel room at the Embassy,” Asami said.

            “I want to go to there,” Korra breathed. “We should probably go before my boss gets back and I get fired. Although I wouldn’t mind too much.”

            “I should get my coat and stuff.”

            “I’ll get my stuff out of my locker. Meet you at the coat check?” Korra asked, despite still having her arms around Asami’s waist.

            “Yeah,” she whispered leaning in to steal one more kiss.

            Korra smiled into the interaction.

            “Ok, let’s go.”

            Five minutes later, Korra in her impressively large white coat found Asami waiting for her, underdressed for the weather in a large black coat that was not even a little suited for the weather.

            “There’s a blizzard outside,” Asami noted at the sheets of white snow blowing through the city streets. “And there’s no way I can walk, in heels, back to the hotel. I just got to find a taxi or something.”

            “Nonsense,” Korra said. “You can’t walk, fine, but I can. I’m a native Canadian, this weather means nothing to me. So I’ll just carry you.”

            “You’ll what?” Asami asked, but Korra had already picked up Asami in the same carry that someone would carry their bride across the threshold. “Korra!” Asami was giggling uncontrollably as Korra practically ran through the snow and wind towards the obscured hotel tower.

            Asami wrapped her arms around Korra’s neck for support, smiling the whole time. From her position in her arms, Asami had a wonderful view of the side of Korra’s face. She could see the lines of somewhat poorly applied makeup. Beneath it Asami could tell she had a pretty face, something that didn’t need to hide or highlighted with better colors and application.

            It hadn’t yet dawned on her fully, at this point it was little more than a dim feeling or an inkling, that this was going to be something very different. Her plan wasn’t on track anymore. Some part of her, conscious or not, knew that this was going to be so much more than a one night stand.

            They arrived at the hotel slightly wet from the snow and the exertion and both were out of breath, Korra from the unexpected workout and Asami from the barely contained laughter.

            “Thank you my charming steed,” Asami said with a wide grin once Korra set her down inside the hotel lobby.

            “’Twas an honor, m’lady,” Korra responded as she kissed Asami’s hand and bowed.

            They walked to the elevators and once inside Asami pressed the button for the top floor.

            “Wow, the presidential suite. You must be rich,” Korra remarked.

            “Filthy,” Asami responded. “You’ve got snow in your hair.”

            She reached out to brush the snowflakes out of Korra’s wonderful, long brown hair. The instant their skin touched, each felt that spark of intensity.

            Korra’s breath caught in her throat as Asami’s cold hand touched her cheek.

            Asami’s eyes were locked on Korra’s and her inside felt like they were floating.

            Both of them moved at the same moment. Asami put her other hand on Korra’s face and pulled her up, at the same moment Korra grabbed her hips and pulled her close.

            They crashed into each other, but the feeling or pure, concentrated bliss in the other’s lips canceled out any temporary feelings of pain.

            Korra pushed Asami up against the wall of the elevator and pale hands went to the back of her neck and grasped her hair in just the right way.

            Korra shuddered and Asami smiled as she bit Korra’s bottom lip playfully.

            “I’m so excited,” Korra said.

            “Good, because this is our stop.”

            “Aww,” Korra muttered. “But I was having fun.”

            Asami kissed Korra once more before reminding her, “But think of how much more fun we’ll have once we’re horizontal.”

            “You make a compelling argument.”

            The doors slid open and the pair somewhat reluctantly parted. Asami opened the door to the massive hotel room and both women hung up their coats.

            “Mind if I go to the bathroom?” Korra asked. “I kinda want to take off this makeup and club crap.”

            “Go ahead,” Asami pointed. Korra slipped off her shoes and moved into the bathroom.

            While Korra was removing the thick layer of foundation and eyeliner and everything that she seemed to have to wear for the job, Asami was slipping out of her red dress, neatly hanging it up and laying in the middle of the bed in nothing but her matching black silk bra and thong.

            Her long, pale legs were in stark contrast to the dark bedspread. She ran her fingers through her hair to get it to sit just right over her left shoulder, and then she waited.

            When Korra came out of the bathroom, Asami was stunned. Her complexion seemed darker out of makeup and the poor lighting of the club, her entire look seemed a little rougher and suited her better. Her look brown hair looked wieldy and reveling in the freedom from the tight ponytail she’d had it in earlier. Korra’s ample chest was just barely contained by what Asami was no realizing was only the vest part of a white three piece suit which showed up her rippling biceps. And her surely muscular legs were slightly contained in the tight black skinny jeans.

            Korra meanwhile was standing, staring at Asami like a slack jawed yokel. She was absolutely stunning (as evident by Korra being stunned silent). For a brief second she was disappointed that she wasn’t the one to pull that luxurious red dress off of her, but it was quickly squashed by awe at her beauty and pure sexual excitement.

            After overcoming her shock, Korra gave a wide grin and ran towards the bed. Korra leapt onto the bed and landed next to Asami, who panicked for a second a jumped to the side. But Korra just landed next to her with her head resting on her hand and said, “Hey there. I couldn’t help myself.”

            Once again she reduced Asami to a fit of laughter. “You are such a dork. A charming, incredibly hot, dork.”

            Korra just beamed as Asami wrapped her arms around those sculpted shoulders and kissed her. “Well I’m glad someone likes it.”

            “I do, I do,” Asami muttered into Korra’s mouth. “Now, I do believe that it is massively unfair that you have on more clothes than me.”

            Korra barely registered the comment, she was trying to focus on everything else: the taste and feel of Asami’s lips (reminiscent of vodka and strawberries); the feel of Asami’s skin as her hands trailed her naked legs (smooth and warm and what heaven must feel like); Asami’s had brushing the hair out of her face; the other hand starting to attack the buttons on Korra’s vest; how she smelled (like citrus); and all the while trying to commit every possible second to memory while some distant thought echoed through her occupied mind. How soon is too soon to fall for someone?

            Asami couldn’t believe her luck. Korra was easily one of the prettiest people she’d ever met, somehow more perfect without her club makeup on. She was fit, she was eager. Korra smelled faintly of sweat and liquor with the barest hint of vanilla. Jesus Christ she was an excellent kisser. Her tongue was something special, and Asami couldn’t wait.

            For the first time in memory, Asami was struck with performance anxiety. She wanted this to go better than great. She couldn’t be bothered to think of why, but it made her hands shake slightly as she tried to undo the buttons on Korra’s vest. It might not have helped that she kept getting distracted with Korra’s kisses.

            Eventually, it could have been seconds, minutes, or lifetimes, Korra shifted everything so Asami was now lying beneath her.

            From her position straddling Asami, Korra’s hair covered them both. Eventually she sat back and pushed her hair back as Asami finally opened Korra’s vest.

            “I really need a haircut,” Korra muttered.

            “I think it looks fucking hot.”

            Korra just grinned and pulled off her vest, revealing an expensive and well worn push-up bra, also a set of near perfect abs.

            She reached behind her and unhooked the bra as Asami looked on in awe, hands absently tracing the lines of Korra’s muscles.

            “Freedom,” Korra whispered as she flung the article of clothing from her body.

            “It is rather unfair how attractive you are.”

            “Back at ya,” Korra countered. “You know you can touch as well as look.”

            “I know,” Asami breathed as she took another second to admire the view. The next second, Asami took control. She moved her hands across Korra’s dark, chiseled skin up to her perfect, perky tits that fit so nicely in her hands. Asami leaned up and kissed her once more, before pushing her back onto the bed and putting herself on top.

            Their lips were practically glued together as Asami gleefully caressed Korra’s breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers.

            “You have such wonderful hands,” Korra moaned as they broke their kiss in a desperate need for air.

            Asami didn’t respond, she just kissed along the underside of Korra’s jaw towards her ear. She playfully bit the earlobe in front of her and whispered, “My safe word is kumquat.”

            Korra snorted. “Who says kumquat, like ever?”

            The pale woman on top said nothing. She just moved quickly. She kissed her way down Korra’ neck to her nipples as her hands went to the belt on the only remaining pair of pants.

            Asami’s playful biting sent shivers all up and down Korra’s spine.

            “Goodbye pants,” Asami said as she finally got a look at those muscular legs she couldn’t wait to have wrapped around her head. “Ooh, someone was prepared.”

            Korra blushed as she was only left in a dark purple thong. Asami grinned from her position near Korra’s belly button. Their skin was in stark contrast where it touched, and Asami’s green eyes were burning with desire.

            With one last nip at Korra’s abs, Asami slid down. She teased Korra with a lick through the cloth of the thong that absolutely drove Korra wild, so did the little nibble on Korra’s inner thigh.

            “You’re so mean to me,” Korra whimpered.

            Asami flipped her hair so she could look into Korra’s eyes. “Am I? What would you have me do to not be so mean?” she asked with wide eyes and a bad attempt at sounding innocent. As she was doing so, her hand was tracing small, lazy circles around Korra’s slowly dampening panties.

            “Oh fuck me,” Korra moaned. “Fuck me six different ways. Use your hands, use your mouth, use something, just please Asami, fuck me.”

            It was hands down the most beautiful sentence Asami had ever heard. Really the only thing she was going to remember about it, was how Korra looked at her, blue eyes full of desire and awe and lust, looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world, and how her name sounded rolling off Korra’s lips like there was no other name she’d ever need to say again.

            Asami gave her a salute, “Yes ma’am!”

            Before Korra knew it, her thong was gone, and Asami was giving her all sorts of oral pleasure. A few flicks of Asami’s tongue across Korra’s eager clit, had the tan woman shaking in pleasure, one hand clenching the bed spread.

            The giver was relishing in the heavenly taste of the woman below her. She continued to explore with her tongue making mental notes as to where to go to make Korra whimper, where to make her moan, and where to make her shudder.

            Just when Korra felt it couldn’t get any better, because to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t orgasmed like six times already, she felt Asami slip a single finger inside her and so efficiently elicit a, “Oh holy shit Asami. Yes. Yes. Oh keep going for the love of goooooood.”

            Asami smiled briefly as she slowed her pace just a little to bring Korra down slightly, and then suddenly increasing her pace, her finger curling just slightly to hit that spot and her tongue rapidly hitting all those little places that drove Korra wild.

            Korra’s hands went to the back of Asami’s head, desperately trying to keep her in position (as if something of this world could possibly tear her away). Korra came in spectacular fashion, crying Asami’s name and arching her back enough to give Asami a wonderful view of her tits.

            As she came down, Asami bit Korra’s inner thigh one more time and got her to twitch in the aftershocks of pleasure. She wiped her mouth clean as she moved up Korra’ pristine body, but left her finger slightly caressing her sex.

            Every so often Korra would shudder as Asami touched a sensitive spot.

            “Holy shit,” Korra sighed as she tried to catch her breath. “Thank you for that.”

            Asami smiled a wicked grin as she brought up her finger, “It was my pleasure.” She licked her finger clean. “You taste like heaven.”

            Korra pulled her in for a deep kiss because that was the only response her brain could formulate for something so attractive.

            “My turn,” Korra said. “I want to know how you taste.”

            “The all you can eat buffet is open,” Asami responded.

            Korra kissed her before saying, “And you say I’m the dork?”

            Asami just nodded once as Korra’s lips pressed into her neck. She wondered, perhaps feared, Korra’s sensuous lips could feel her breakneck pulse, taste just how bad she wanted this, how bad she wanted it to be something more than it might appear to be.

            She leaned into each kiss, just a little, especially once Korra hit that little spot right where her neck met her shoulder.

            Korra marveled at the pale woman’s breasts. They might have been slightly smaller than hers, but Korra adored them just as much and gave them just as much attention.

            She used less teeth than Asami, and her tongue more. She trailed it down Asami’s cleavage, as her hands trailed those perfect sides and caressed silky legs.

            More than a few times Korra was diverted from her attempts to kiss every inch of Asami’s perfectly flawed skin (those cute little moles, the little scars, stretch marks on her thighs, each of them a perfect little imperfection) by a forceful pair of hands pulling her up into desperate, needy kisses.

            Eventually Korra got to Asami’s legs, she pulled off the last remaining piece of clothing between the two. She marveled at the sight, the most beautiful woman she’s ever laid eyes on was laying completely naked before her, looking at her with the combination of lust, need, want, admiration, and reverence in the most lovely shade of green that made Korra never wanted to be anywhere else.

            She kissed and licked her way up each leg with a deliberate, enticing, slowness. Asami was practically begging for in hushed, throaty cries of, “Korra, please…”

            Each second of teasing bliss, of ecstasy and pleasure that never quite took Korra over the edge when Asami was giving, Korra repaid in kind.

            She licked her in slow, broad strokes, then in quick little movements that gave Asami shudders and brought out moans of her name.

            “Korra don’t stop. Don’t you ever dare stop.”

            She didn’t. She wouldn’t. For a moment, the pair both had the same thought as Asami’s fingers interlaced with Korra’s as she pushed her over the edge, they both thought about doing this for days, for months, for years, for lifetimes. And that thought, in its coital flash, disappeared from their conscious minds, but the nebulous, undefined feeling remained.

            Asami pulled Korra back up, wrapped her arms and legs around her, and kissed her like she would die if they ever lost contact.

            At some point they cuddled beneath the blankets together. They were drifting off to sleep together, arms and legs and hair intertwined.

            Korra got up once, and only once, to use the bathroom, and from beneath the blankets came the saddest sounding voice she’d ever head, “Come back to me.”

            With a promise she’d be back, Korra knew that she couldn’t ever resist that voice, abandon that woman like that, any thoughts of leaving in the night or even in the morning were extinguished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for that, just all of that. Sorry. Will you hate me less if I promise to never write sex again?


	6. The Call to Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra and Asami talk, and things are negotiated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of set-up. I build you up so I can tear you down.

            That weekend, that night in particular, was on both of their minds as the week dragged its feet slowly into the weekend. They had a coffee meeting, Korra hesitated when it came to calling it a date since Asami didn’t sound too happy with her, Saturday afternoon.

            Korra left Tenzin’s a whole two hours early because she had no idea how to navigate New York City yet and bet good money on her getting lost.

            Sure enough Korra got off the subway at the wrong exit and spent the next forty five minutes trying to retrace her steps. Thanks to her long head start she made it early, which was a first for her, and waited patiently for Asami to arrive.

            After she ordered her coffee she turned around to see Asami reading on her table in the corner of the coffee shop. She was deeply engrossed in something ( _The Heiress and the Artist_ , as she was vividly reliving the fiction of that night) so Korra coughed to make herself known.

            “Oh, Korra! You’re early!” Asami said as she snapped the tablet closed and hoped Korra didn’t know what she was reading desperately trying to get the device out of sight should Korra possess some kind of x-ray vision.

            “Yeah, I got lost for a bit,” she admitted. “And I knew that would happen, so I left super early.”

            “A good plan.”

            “Probably the only one I ever had. Apart from taking you up on your offer way back when,” Korra gave a shy half smile.

            Asami didn’t seem amused. “Please, sit.”

            Korra took the open seat across from her. “If you haven’t noticed already, I’m super sorry about all of this.”

            “I noticed,” Asami responded coldly. “Do me a favor? Call my phone.”

            “Why?” Korra asked as she dug the device out of her pants pocket.

            Asami just slid the phone across the table when it started ringing. “Lora, Sex Goddess” read the caller ID.

            Korra hung up the phone and slapped her forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “Nope.”

            “I swear to god, I’m going to find whoever decided my name isn’t a word and I’m going to punch them right in the face,” Korra muttered in a low voice.

            “I’ll be next in line,” Asami agreed.

            From that point forward neither of them knew how to continue. How do they break the silence of their relationship that had, for all intents and purposes, lasted six months? What words could fill that void? Could anything be said to bring back the connection that was thought to be dead?

            “I guess I should apologize too,” Asami said finally. “I scoured my phone, going just shy of pouring through every single name, but I didn’t see your name. Autocorrect was not something I ever considered.”

            “I can’t be mad at you for my mistake. I fucked up. I royally fucked up. Sorry ‘Sami,” Korra was looking down, intently studying the steam rising in soft little spirals off her coffee.

            Asami’s eyes were studying the top of Korra’s head, green eyes thinking, calculating, trying to come up with some kind of solution. But her head and her feelings couldn’t agree on what to do and the silence was coming again. She couldn’t stand another silence between the two of them. It very well might kill her.

            “Apology accepted,” she finally said, in a futile attempt to stave off the silence once again.

            “So where does that leave us?” Korra asked, picking at the wood grain table.

            “I don’t know,” Asami answered. “Look, that weekend I felt myself starting to fall for you. But when all I got was silence, when I couldn’t find you at the club again…”

            “I was fired for missing all of those shifts,” she interjected.

            “I figured,” Asami said with a forced smile. “But when no contact turned into silence, I was bitter and angry. It was a month of desperate hope and pining that turned into five months of anger, resentment, and pain. Six months isn’t enough time to get over someone. I realize I shouldn’t have been mad, my head knows that. But my heart is still hurt, it can’t just flip a switch and all of a sudden go back to being enamored with you. I want to catch lightning in a bottle with you again, but I just don’t know if I can.”

            “I get it,” Korra said sadly, finally catching Asami’s eye. She looked even sadder through that wonderful shade of blue. “You felt those emotions, regardless of who screwed up where, you felt them. They were real, and to discount them entirely would be to do yourself and your feelings a great disservice. I understand and acknowledge the pain you went through. I went through it too. If you wanted to cut me out of your life entirely, I’d understand, but I’d beg you not to. Wrapped up in my own hurricane of crazy feelings, I know that in the eye of the storm I still really like you. I’m pretty sure it’ll still be there once everything is settled. Would it be too much to ask to just be your friend? Maybe occasional fuck buddy? Because there are a few things I’m good at and fucking is one of them.”

            She didn’t know she was doing it until she realized she’d forgotten to breathe, but Asami was laughing at Korra’s lame little joke at the end. She had such a way with words, that’s why she’s a writer, that made Asami laugh or could just get right to the heart of the matter.

            “I don’t know if I could do friends. I don’t have many because I’m such a bad one. I work all the time, I’m probably incredibly selfish. But I liked your hurricane metaphor.”

            “I know, I’m totally writing that one down.”

            “I definitely don’t think I could do fuck buddies. That would get very complicated very fast, and what I liked so much about you Korra was just how simple everything seemed with you. I don’t think I can do this.”

            “So what?” Korra asked, her voice straining against the lump in her throat. This was sounding an awful lot like a breakup. Korra + breakups = unmitigated fucking disasters. Hurricanes and earthquakes and tsunamis all rolled into one super storm that levels her heart and soul.

            Asami was struggling to find her voice. She felt pulled in so many directions. She felt like Korra abandoned her (even though she didn’t, really) just like Hiroshi did (sort of) and her mother (let’s not go there now). Historically speaking, Asami’s relationships went over like the Titanic: epically crafted, beautiful, classy, then split in half and forgotten about in the cold, dark embrace of the sea leaving hundreds dead. Then there was the fact that she had her number the entire goddamn time. Korra’s analogy was actually perfect. Her like was a fucking hurricane, winds whipping and pulling her in every direction, but in the eye there was something (probably). And that something was more than likely affection for Korra.

            And besides, just look at her. She’s so fucking adorable and sad looking. Like a rejected puppy. How could she ever possibly say no to that?

            “Would- would you be ok with a sad, broken, horrible person like me as a friend?” she finally choked out, trying to contain her own emotions.

            “Are you putting a firm embargo on sex?”

            “No sex,” Asami said with a little twitch that could have constituted a smile.

            “Not even lonely, kinda drunk, it’s 2am sex?”

            “Korra! No!” Asami answered now with a full on grin.

            “Can I at least secretly lust after you?”

            “What is this? A business discussion?”

            “That a no to the secret lusting? What about openly lusting? How about sensual massages?”

            “Are you trying to haggle our friendship?”

            “You’re the big time CEO, I figured you were used to dealing with sharks by now.”

            Asami rolled her eyes. “Of all the things you are Korra, a shark is not one of them. And I’ll give you secret lusting, but no to the sensual massages.”

            Korra gave Asami her best over-acting disappointed look. “Sloppy make outs at least?”

            Once again, eye rolling. “No, but I reserve the right to change my mind on that later.”

            She smiled back at her, looking like she just won the lottery.

            “You’re such a dork.”

            “That you just willingly decided to be friends with.”


	7. The Road of Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the title says: love isn't as easy as the books make it seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The longest chapter of the story to date. So be ready for that.  
> If you thought this was going to be easy then you clearly haven't been paying close enough attention. >:D

            The second hardest thing Korra has ever had to do was be friends with Asami Sato.

            The CEO was constantly busy. The first hangout session, don’t call it a date it’s not a date, was canceled three separate times by various corporate emergencies.

            When they finally did meet up for coffee late on a Sunday afternoon, Asami was looking dead on her feet. Even her flawless makeup game couldn’t compete with the intense dark circles under her eyes.

            Korra’s heart broke for her. At least when she missed sleep it was intentional. If she understood half of the news (it was all corporate jargon and business and financial law talk that Korra was thoroughly convinced no one on the planet truly understood) Asami’s company was under investigation or attack. Or was it both?

            And from the looks of it Asami was taking each instance of her company’s troubles personally. Korra just wanted to give her a hug and a hot chocolate before tucking her into bed and making her breakfast in the morning.

            Instead she just sat awkwardly on the other side of the booth as Asami drank a triple espresso and forced herself to not reach across and hold her hand.

            “How you holding up?” Korra asked with enough sympathy in her voice for even 2-hours-of-sleep-a-night-for-two-weeks Asami to notice.

            “Through a very carefully crafted lattice work scaffold system of caffeine and sheer force of will,” Asami answered. “It is structurally unsound and liable to collapse at any moment. But you know that’s just kind of par for the course. How about you? Adjusting to life in New York well enough?”

            Korra shrugged. “Publishing is always where I figured I’d wind up, but it is very different than I imagined. Like I never actually got to see any of my fan mail.”

            Asami perked up. A sly little grin adorning her tired face. “Oh my god. What’s that like? I need to know.”

            Korra frowned at the obvious schadenfreude. “Well Jinora thought it would just be _hilarious_ if I helped sort it all. I’ve learned things about people I’ve never wanted to know,” Korra said with a shudder.

            “Oh come on! Share! Share!” Asami prodded Korra, still grinning evilly. Talking with her was surprisingly easy, almost as if it this was how it always was.

            Korra tried real hard to keep a smile from her own face. “There’s a lot of little old ladies I’ve given wild ideas to. And they’ve told me just how I’ve spiced up their sex lives which are images I’ll never be free from. Then there’s the hate mail. Which is new. It isn’t much but some people objected to who I paired off in _The Triangle_ and _The Lovers’ Affair_. Oh, and I’ve been proposed to like six different times. And those are just the ones I know about.”

            “Oh my god, who is proposing to you?” Asami asked, mentally double checking that she didn’t write one while drunk one night. She didn’t. Right?

            “A couple of women reading... our story,” Korra mumbled into the table. “And I’ve been informed there’s a steady stream from… that other one.” Her voice had dropped off steadily since she started. It was barely audible.

            “ _The Conqueror and the Warrior_?”Asami asked gently. Her first instinct was to reach across the table and grab her hand, but there was no way she could possibly do that.

            “Yeah,” Korra mumbled. “Apparently that has a pretty devoted lesbian fan base. A good chunk of them are always writing me to ask me to go back to the femslash and leave behind the hetero stuff.”

            “You want to talk about it?”

            “Bi-erasure?”

            Asami flashed a confused look for a second.

            But before she could respond Korra cut her off, “I don’t know about you or what you consider yourself, but I’m bi. 100%. If that bothers you or you think it’s a phase or that I’m strictly straight because all of my _real_ relationships were with guys, than you should tell me now or we’ll have a problem.”

            Asami just blinked for a second.

            What did she respond to first? The weird inflection Korra had on the word real, that could only be described as venomous? That sounded like an obvious place to start. Or maybe the implication that their relationship wasn’t real? Or should she just straight up answer the question? But that line of conversation was likely to turn to talking about exes.

            “Uh… I’m bisexual too,” Asami said and immediately turned her gaze out the window. “I don’t know what else to say. I mean I do but I’d rather do it at the bar literally across the street because this seems like this is going to get heavy.”

            One change of locale and drink order Korra and Asami were sitting in the mildly upscale bar booth.

            “So where were we?” Asami asked, more to her gin and tonic than to Korra.

            “I was being a bit of a defensive asshole,” she admitted. “I didn’t consider…”

            “It’s fine… I mean, I get it,” Asami interrupted. “It’s hard not fitting into what people think you’re supposed to be.”

            “Yeah,” Korra sighed in agreement.

            “You should have seen the fit my father threw when I was dating a girl in college,” Asami said. “He threatened to cut me off and we didn’t speak for over a month.”

            “That sucks,” Korra said, it was all she knew how to say. What else was there?

            Asami finished her drink in a few large gulps.

            “It’s not like he was one to judge anyways,” she said as she leaned back into the booth and closed her eyes.

            “You look like you need some sleep,” Korra said, changing topic. “When was the last time you got any sleep?”

            “About a week before my father was arrested.”

            “Wasn’t that like eight months ago?”

            She only nodded.

            “Why don’t we go home, before you completely collapse?” Korra asked. “We can continue this later.”

            Asami nodded, and made a half hearted promise to meet up again next week.

            But it would be another month before Korra and Asami were even in the same room together. 

* * *

 

            The next time Korra got to hang out with Asami it was not by Asami’s choice.

            Korra had been trying to get to Asami for a while. But she was constantly brushed off or plans changed. In fact she was seeing more Asami’s assistant than she was of Asami.

            Finally on a Friday night, Korra barged into Asami’s office well after the rest of the building went home.

            “Korra!”Asami cried in surprise.

            “Ok, I get it, we’re not really close as I’d like. I’m not even sure if you’d consider me your friend,” Korra said. “But I’m yours. And for the love of god you need a day off. A real day off. Not one of those half days off.”

            “I can’t there’s too much to do,” Asami protested.

            “Oh fuck no. I’m closer friends with your assistant than I am with you. I like her, very nice girl. She’s worried about you,” Korra said, hands definitely on her hips. “Do you even know what time it is?”

            “6:30?”

            “It’s after ten.”

            “Oh…” Asami said.

            “You are done for the day,” Korra said as she strode across the office and spun Asami’s chair to face her. “And you are coming with me.”

            She pulled Asami up out of the chair and slung her across her shoulders in a fireman’s carry.

            “You need to have a day off,” Korra said as she carried her off to the elevator.

            “Korra! Korra! Put me down!” Asami asked with the barest hint of contained laughter.

            “No! You haven’t eaten, you haven’t slept, you’ve done nothing for yourself, so I’m kidnapping you.”

            “Where are you taking me?” Asami asked when she finally stopped struggling against Korra as they exited the elevator.

            “I haven’t decided. I mean I could take you to Tenzin’s, but that would be awkward since there’s like no space, and everyone’s asleep. I don’t have a place of my own… I can’t take you to your place because you’ll find a sneaky ass way to do work. I guess we’re going to Avatar,” Korra said.

            “Ok, and then what?” Asami asked as Korra finally put her down next to her rusty van.

            “Then I order food, we sit, we eat. You probably collapse at some point due to exhaustion,” Korra shrugged as she cajoled the van into starting.

            At Avatar Publishing Korra directed Asami to her cubicle while they playfully bickered over what kind of pizza toppings to get.

            “I can’t believe you actually enjoy anchovies,” Asami said. “It is like an affront to pizza.”

            Korra just stuck out her tongue as she fiddled with the GrubHub order.

            The food arrived as the couple made small talk.

            “How is the book coming?” Asami asked. “It’s been a while since I’ve gotten an update.”

            “Tenzin is trying to convince me to add a story that he liked from the first draft, but there are so many other things I’d rather do, like jump out a window. Meanwhile Pema and Jinora are going through with a fine toothed comb picking out every flaw.” Korra sighed. “It’s so hard when people just spend all day every day telling you how you fucked up in excruciating detail.”

            “Yeah… I’m well acquainted with that feeling,” Asami said. “Sucks don’t it?”

            “Yeah…”

            “What do you think you’ll do for the cover?”

            “You know that’s actually the biggest problem in facing right now. I never really thought too hard about it until now and I have no idea. Tenzin already vetoed my original idea of just a picture of my face with a confused look.” Korra gave Asami a confused look liked she trapped in the headlights of a monster truck.

            Asami laughed. “That would be accurate, if not really sellable.”

            Korra nodded as she rubbed her chin. “My other idea was just a gravestone with someone standing just out of frame. The headstone would be the title of the book, partially shadowed by someone standing over it, with fresh-ish flowers in hand, and old, dead flowers resting on the ground before the headstone.”

            “I can see it!” Asami said. “I like it! I think it would look super cool.”

            “Glad someone agrees,” Korra muttered darkly.

            Asami wound up devoured three-fourths of the pizza herself, much to Korra’s amusement.

            “You want the last slice or am I at risk for losing a finger?” she asked.

            Asami snapped at Korra (which didn’t help because Korra couldn’t stop thinking about the last time Asami bit her) but then she conceded the last of the pizza. “God I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Thanks for this.”

            Together they cleaned up the mess.

            “Korra, seriously. Thanks for this. Now I’m going to go back to my apartment and sleep for approximately nineteen hours,” Asami yawned.

            “You look like you need it. Get home safe.”

            Asami nodded and smiled.

            From there, their friendship was seemingly solidified. They’d text just about every day. Little things, chit chat, but never for very long.

            Korra was doing her best at reigning in her natural tendency to swan dive into the deep end of friendship, since Asami seemed the type who would clam up at that. It was hard for her to not do all the things that she’d normally do for her friends. It felt like cheating, almost like she was betraying herself and Asami. But what else could she do?

            They had two solid weeks of communication, which felt like a lifetime to Korra. Until all of a sudden Asami went radio silent.

            Korra hadn’t heard from her in three days. When she called the office, Asami’s assistant told her that it was a bad time. Asami had barely left the office in two days, much less ate or slept.

            She thanked the assistant and immediately stopped what she was doing and marched over to Asami’s office.

            When she pushed into the office she saw the CEO looking more work and frayed than she’s ever seen her.

            “Korra?” she asked like someone questioning a hallucination. “What are you doing here?”

            “Apparently you haven’t eaten or slept in days so I’m kidnapping you again to make sure you take care of yourself.”

            “No,” Asami said flatly, forcefully. Like she was ordering an employee. “I have work to do.”

            “Work can wait for a few hours,” Korra said as she moved to pick Asami up again.

            But Asami countered her, flipping around the stunned Korra and pining her to the floor with her legs around Korra’s arm and neck.

            “What the fuck Asami?” Korra muttered angrily as she tried to get out of the hold.

            “I said no.” She let Korra go and stood up. “I can’t leave. Do you even know why I’m here?”

            Korra stood up, looking hurt (more from pride than physical injury), and shook her head. Asami threw a newspaper from the bottom of the stack of papers on her desk at Korra’s head. The headline was in a language she couldn’t read and below it was the picture of a fire and crime scene tape.

            “I can’t read this,” she said lamely.

            “Three days ago a Future Industries supply truck was attacked in Nigeria. Thinking it was a simple robbery, the senior official surrendered the goods to the thieves. Desmond was quite possibly the nicest, most loyal person I have ever met. He handed over the tech to try and ensure the safety of his workers. He even offered to go with them so the thieves could collect the standing ransom pay the company has for senior officers. They killed him in cold blood. They killed seven others that were with him, and left one person alive to tell me that I was going to pay for my capitalist crimes before burning the entire convoy. I lost eight people yesterday.”

            “Asami…” Korra said her hand partially raised in a half hearted attempt to reach out of her. “I’m so sorry.”

            “No, you’re not. You’re just here because you’ve wanted to sleep with me for months now. If you’ll excuse me I have to tell my insurance company to pay out my employee’s life insurance policies in full, immediately or I’ll be dropping them as a provider. Then I have to catch a flight to Nigeria to apologize to the families of the people who died solely because they worked for me. And I have to host a press conference and write a speech. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t have time for your relationship games. You can’t just come over here whenever you feel lonely, or you need a fuck or whatever.”

            Korra didn’t know what to say. She just looked at Asami in stunned silence for a moment. “I… I didn’t…” she finally forced out.

            “No,” Asami snapped. “You didn’t. Let’s face it, we don’t know anything about each other.”

            Korra had nothing left to say, so she just turned and left.

            Asami picked up the phone with the distant feeling that she’d done something very wrong, but she could fix it later. Her company came first, her people came first. Then she could worry about herself, then she could worry about Korra.

* * *

            Korra didn’t talk to Asami for two more weeks. The first day was out of wounded pride and hurt feelings, but the other thirteen days was because Asami was out of the country and Korra couldn’t afford to text overseas.

            Instead she made an effort to watch the news more. Future Industries was dominating the headlines. So at least it was easy for Korra started to learn more about the business as she watched and read more.

            The whole thing started because Hiroshi Sato, Asami’s father, and original co-founder of Future Industries was arrested and currently pending trail for all sorts of crimes. Corporate espionage, bribery, extortion, insider trading, all sorts of shady business practices that ranged from doing business with warlords to working on the wrong side of UN embargo lines to worker exploitation and pollution. It seems like anything that could be done to make money, Hiroshi did it.

            When he was arrested seven months ago, Asami inherited the crumbling empire. Not only did she need to keep the company running but she had to deal with the onslaught of lawsuits and fixing every single one of Hiroshi’s mistakes.

            And now a yet unidentified anarchist terror group was targeting Future Industries and killing their people.

            She even stayed up till 4am to watch the press conference live.

            At first Asami was calm, collected, controlled, just like she always was. But then, right at the end of the speech when she was saying she’s never going to forget the lives of her employees, Korra saw her snap.

            There was a long pause as Korra saw the anger rise. Their relationship might be considered rocky on a good day, but Korra could still read every little line on Asami’s perfect face. To her, the CEO might as well have been wearing a neon hat that broadcasted her rage. “The people who did this are cowards. They are terrorists and bullies. For all their talk of punishing my company, punishing my father, but the ones that truly suffer are the hardworking people who work at the bottom rungs of my company. These terrorists are making it a nightmare for the people who do nothing wrong who are just trying to make a living. These people are goddamn cowards. If they want to punish anyone for my father’s, for my, mistakes… punish me.”

            God, did Asami just make herself a target for terrorists? Had she always been a target, but Korra just didn’t notice?

            She pulled out her phone, and international rates be damned, texted Asami, “Call me when you get back to the states. I’m worried about you.”

            The only problem was that Asami was out of the country for the next month. So they didn’t have time to connect or get together at all.

            In fact, the next time that Korra saw Asami was at her novel launch party. She didn’t even know if the investor was going to come. Asami never RSPV’d or anything.

            But then all of a sudden she was there, across the crowded floor of Avatar Publishing, in a nice backless, black dress. Her dark hair falling in soft waves and Korra was smitten all over again. Yet she was still hurt by their one sided conversation last time.

            “Asami,” Korra said coolly. “I didn’t know you were back.”

            “I got in last night,” Asami said. “I couldn’t miss the biggest novel launch in the Publisher I have a stake in. That’s just a bad investor strategy.”

            “I see.” There was a long moment of silence. “How are you holding up?”

            “Just fine,” Asami responded. She couldn’t deny it, Korra looked pretty damn good in her fairly well-cut suit and thin blue tie and her long hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, several strands hanging over her face.

            Collectively the pair’s hearts demanded that they make up and make out, while their pride was still wounded and all apologies died unspoken.

            Before the awkwardness could possibly consume them whole, they were interrupted by a very loud, “KORRA!”

            A large, muscular man with a round, boyish face rushed through the crowd and picked up Korra in a large bear hug.

            “Hey Bolin!” Korra said returning the hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

            “I’m so proud of you!” he said as he put down the writer. “Who are you talking to?”

            Asami was introduced to Korra’s old friend Bolin and his girlfriend Opal. She was introduced to Korra’s friends.

            “This is Asami Sato,” Korra said. “We’ve been friends for a while.”

            That sentence haunted Asami for the rest of the night. She was exhausted and emotionally she couldn’t, she just couldn’t.

            But despite all that she did, everything she’d said. Through all of that horribleness and unintentional backstabbing and just Asami being cold and awful, Korra still considered her a friend. Or was that just a gentle, little white lie to placate her, to placate her real friends? Or was it just a shorthand excuse to not explain their whole messy history?

            Something very close to panic, full blown anxiety and worry, hit Asami like a truck.

            She quietly excused herself, international travel really does take a toll.

            Korra bid Asami goodbye, just briefly holding the hug half a second too long before turning back to Bolin.

            The heiress got back to her apartment and pulled out the bottle of vodka out of her freezer and said fuck it to the glasses and drank straight out of the bottle.

            The cold vodka left a trail of ice right through her core as her heart conversely burned and beat excessively. There was a firestorm inside her that the vodka didn’t quell her. It just made her numb to the internal destruction.

            What the fuck did she do to Korra? Why does she do this? Every single goddamn time. Push the people away before they could do it to her. More vodka. What the hell is wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be better? Why is she so fucking broken?

            Vodka.

            This is why. This is why she’s so fucking alone. Hiroshi. Her mother. Everyone leaves because they fucking hate Asami Sato. Who wouldn’t?

            Vodka. Vodka.

            Somehow it was 3am and she was sobbing into the phone.

            Somehow it was 3am and Korra was in Asami’s apartment, holding her as the pale women sobbed her heart out, entirely unclear as to how she got there or why.

            The absolute hardest thing Korra ever had to do was to hold the beautiful, crying woman and living with the knowledge that they maybe just didn’t work, that maybe they just missed their window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed already, I've been using literary devices/parts of plot arcs/and parts of the Hero's Journey (from The Hero With a Thousand Faces) as chapter titles. I just want everyone to be 100% completely aware of this when you see the next chapter title.


	8. Death of the Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One way or the other these two are settling things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Call out the fracture between two lives; there's one to leave behind."
> 
> This is the chapter that made kittymannequin mad at me. Violence incoming, backstory incoming.  
> Once and for all Korra and Asami are going to have this out.

            Extremely hungover Asami had been reduced to a series of nouns and adjectives.

            Headache.

            Bed. Sideways? Pants. Dry mouth.

            Nauseous. Bucket. Water on night stand.

            At least super drunk Asami was thoughtful. Usually she awoke from blackouts in her bathroom crying into the toilet. Whatever happened last night, whoever she became after blacking out around 1am, she had the forethought to take care of wishing-for-death Asami.

            Bathroom. Toothbrush. Mouthwash. No, smells of alcohol, oh god no.

            Shower. Hot, cleansing water.

            When did she change?

            Korra's party. Black dress, nice cleavage, showed off legs and back. Looked good. Something happened.

            Friends.

            Korra had friends. Asami had nothing.

            Panic.

            Home. Drinking. Haze.

            After getting back from Korra's publishing party and nabbing the bottle of vodka she didn't remember much.

            The feelings and the dark, spiraling thoughts were still there. Thankfully the crippling self hatred, identity crises, and extreme loathing of past choices were much too complex thoughts for Asami to process. So her mind was utterly blank, lost in the fog of gratuitous alcohol consumption and the mist of the shower.

            Forty five minutes later she exited the shower now smelling less like a distillery, moderately cleaner on the outside, and able to think slightly more complex thoughts.

            Dry off. Towel around hair. Pants.

            She stomped to her room and put on a worn pair of comfy, baggy sweatpants, and the nearest, cleanest shirt.

            Then she stomped towards the kitchen, only dimly aware that something was different, something was off.

            She spied the hot cup of coffee, picked it up, took a sip and put it down before she fully realized something was wrong.

            "Morning," said a voice from behind her. "Or should I say afternoon?"

            Asami whipped around, fog temporarily banished under the alarm of adrenalin.

            A few feet behind her stood Korra, with a forced smile on her face.

            "What are you doing here?" Asami almost yelled. Her adrenaline now fueling panic that someone was in her apartment and she didn't even notice.

            Korra shoved her hands in her suit coat pockets. "I'm not terribly surprised you don't remember."

            "That's not answering my question."

            Korra took out her phone and showed Asami the recent calls tab. From 1am to 3am Asami's name showed up 11 times.

            "Fuck," she breathed. "Sorry."

            "I won't lie, I was pissed at you, so I rejected the first 5, then let the next five go to voicemail, I picked up the last one. Mostly out of sheer anger."

            "How bad?" Asami asked, already dreading the answer.

            "You were drunk and freaking the fuck out and crying. I came over to make sure you wouldn't die."

            "Fuck, I'm sorry. How many messages did I leave?"

            "Not counting the unintelligible texts, you left me ten voicemails," Korra looked away from the disheveled Asami for a second. "I didn't listen to them." Korra lied, but Asami was too tired and hungover to notice.

            "Oh good," Asami responded. Her headache was back, and so was that horrible feeling of knowing that there were gaps in her memory. "Well I'm alive, I made it. You can go now so I can jump off my roof in solitude."

            "Oh fuck no," Korra said defiantly. Her hands were on her hips and Asami could only describe her glare as icy. "No fucking way. You call me over here drunk out of your fucking mind, sobbing like your dog just died, you've put me through all of this shit the last few months, you're so stressed you're liable to snap or explode, and you might not consider me a friend but I'm enough of one to call at 2am so I'm not leaving until we've had this out. You don't want romance fine. I don't really want to fuck you now anyways. But I'm you goddamn motherfucking friend."

            Korra was lying of course. If Asami told her to strip naked and have sex with her right there on the floor, Asami in sweatpants and a paint stained shirt that looked like an Ebola patient, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

            Asami glared at Korra, her green eyes hard but her heart less so. "Later," she croaked half-heartedly. One half of her, the tired, exhausted, hungover half wanted to be alone with its horrible decisions and headache. The other half, the one that was in hopeless, desperate love with Korra, feared nothing more than being left alone to recover in silence, that evil judging silence. "I need to recover."

            "No. I'm not leaving until we're sorted. You try to run and I'll just tie you to a chair. You wanna fight and I'll win. Your little jujitsu flip only worked because I wasn't expecting it."

            Asami's eyes narrowed.

            "And you've obviously claimed my coffee, so I'll get you some water. Breakfast should be here soon."

            "Breakfast? What time is it?"

            "Almost four."

            "Breakfast?"

            "You begged me for waffles last night. Down on your knees, crying for waffles. Now drink your coffee and have some water."

            Asami groaned into her coffee. This was the worst fucking weekend ever.

            Sure enough the delivery guy arrived with the three course breakfast before Asami finished her first cup of coffee.

            Waffles, fruit, pastries, hash browns, toppings galore. If Asami wasn't completely hating herself she would have loved it, but instead she was too mired in the quicksand of self loathing to fully appreciate the food.

            By the end of breakfast, which Asami ate a good deal of despite how nauseous she felt, she was feeling much better if not any more talkative.

            Korra cleaned up and then sat across from the table and stared at her, arms crossed.

            "So," Korra said simply. Like it would be that goddamn easy.

            Asami frowned at her. "So what?"

            "What is your deal?"

            "I'm hungover and there's an unwanted guest squatting in my apartment."

            "You asked me here."

            "I don't remember asking you to stay," Asami said and then immediately caught the irony of that statement.

            Korra just gave her a disapproving frown.

            "Fine," Asami sulked, if this is what Korra wants. She'd still be up for sleeping with her, maybe, if Korra would just stop caring so fucking much about her. Goddamn, she's making everything so stupidly difficult. Her headache, heartache whatever, was making sorting out all of these stupid ass feelings in a nice, orderly manner so fucking impossible; not to mention whatever Korra’s presence does to her insides.

            "Ok," Korra continues. "We've slept together. We've been in each other's lives for almost a year. I think I've leveled up enough to unlock your tragic back story. Would it help if started?"

            Asami was pouting. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was leaning away from Korra. She said nothing, letting the silence cover the both of them.

            "Hi, I'm Korra," she said. "I have emotional baggage. You could probably say I'm broken."

            "You're not broken," Asami countered. "I'm the broken one."

            "To quote a pretty ok book I read once," Korra responded immediately, "Besides, who isn’t broken inside? Anyone who says otherwise is lying."

            Asami just frowned.

            Korra took a deep breath and steeled herself. She can't believe she was about to do this. She tried to convince herself that it was to help Asami and not, like she was drowning and, clinging to any floating debris in an attempt to keep afloat.

            She tried to make a joke of it. "What should I start with? The only real boyfriend I've ever had was in college and he is the basis for every single one of the Blackwood novels except yours and... _Conqueror_. Or how about ever since my relationship with said conqueror ended I've gone through severe periods of manic writing and deeply isolated depression. How about the fact that if I stop writing I kind of feel like I'm gonna slip backwards into a fog of lost souls never to fully recover and I'm fucking terrified because I haven't written a single new word since I published our story. Not one. So I've been throwing myself into other people, friends, you, to stop myself from ever being alone."

            "Korra..." Asami said, her eyes had gone from cold and distant to wide and sad.

            "Or I got it, I can talk about how I've probably sabotaged every single relationship I've been in just by virtue of being me, normal clingy, suffocating Korra!"

            "Korra..." Asami said, finally uncrossing her arms. "None of what happened between us was your fault."

            "It was and you know it."

            Asami frowned. "No, most of it was me. You said you sabotaged all your relationships? I fucking detonate mine. I either push people away, shut myself off or I drive them away by being so infuriating. I'm either never there or I'm suffocating, demanding time, attention, affection, you name it. I'm a commitment-phobe, because I know that at some point everyone will leave me. Add to all of the emotionally stunted growth the fact that my job is pushing me towards an early grave because I can't fix all of my father's mistakes nor can I seemingly save my people. I'm alone out here and I'm drowning."

            "That's what I've been trying to get you to understand!" Korra almost shouted. "You're not alone! You've got me! I'm your... friend. At this rate the only thing you can do to get me to stop being your friend is to stab me or start seriously dating one of my exes."

            Asami cracked a tiny smile at that point.

            "I feel like we are making progress."

            "Progress? We collectively aired out our closets. What else is there?" Asami asked. As much for as it was pointing out her character flaws, she'd rather not continue. No matter how close to Korra she got.

            "Us."

            "What?"

            "Right here, right now. I need closure. I can't this "will we won't we" shit. You're tearing me apart Asami."

            "Oh don't you dare quote that movie at me."

            "Anyways how's your sex life?" Korra asked with the biggest shit eating grin that even Asami had to smile back.

            "But seriously Asami, what the fuck happened to us?"

            Asami opened her mouth to speak but her cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. But then she read the caller ID. It was work calling her. Besides being with Korra she was in no mind to talk business. They'll leave a message and she'll take care of it later.

            The phone went to voicemail and before she could think of response to Korra her phone buzzed again.

            "Emergency! answer ur damn phone" the text from her assistant read.

            Then immediately the phone started ringing again.

            "Yeah?" Asami asked.

            "There's been another attack. One of the factories in Peru."

            "Fuck! Anyone hurt or..." The possible ending to that sentence, to those lives, died in her throat.

            "Serious, non-life threatening on a couple dozen. Everyone'll live if not work again."

            "Shit, but I guess it is kind of a best case scenario," Asami said. "Ok, I need a plane out there immediately. Have reports and shit on the plane waiting for me."

            "Done."

            The line went dead.

            “Fuck,” Asami muttered. “Korra. I’m sorry, but we need to end this here. Another one of my factories was attacked. I’ve got to go to Peru right now.”

            “No,” Korra said with a shrug. “I’ve got a passport and I’m pretty sure you’ve got more than enough room on your corporate jet.”

            “What?”

            “I told you. I’m not leaving until we have this out. A flight to Peru would take like what seven hours?”

            “Close enough.”

            “What better space to hash this out than an inescapable metal tube a couple thousand feet up in the air?” Korra said. “I’ll just need to stop by Tenzin’s and grab a change of clothes.”

            “Korra…”

            “No. We are fucking doing this one way or the other. And you are barely holding it together in your apartment with sweatpants on. You’re going to need my help, you’re going to need a friend out there.”

            “Fine,” Asami said as she stomped to her room to change and pack.

            An hour later they were in the international terminal with bags packed ready to depart for the faraway land of Lima, Peru.

            Both the ride to the airport and the process of getting through security offered no time to talk. In the airport Korra noticed rows of magazines with pictures of the sad looking heiress at the podium where she called the terrorists cowards, or the symbol of the cult (The Red Lotus or whatever they called themselves), but the one she saw the most of was the employee ID’s of the dead Future Industries’ members stained in blood with the headline: “Crumbling Futures”.

            But once they’d gotten on the plane and took off, there was going to be approximately eight hours as they flew to Lima. The close quarters, the recycled air, the atmosphere, everything was so close it might have just been claustrophobic.

            “So what happened with us?” Korra asked once they were in the air. “We parted ways, I fucked up, we reunite, everyone is pissed, we sort of forgive each other, and then all of a sudden we spiral into something vaguely antagonistic till you call me last night. I feel like I missed a step.”

            “It wasn’t something that you did,” Asami said as she started ringing her hands. “I mean it sort of was.”

            “What did I do?”

            “You playfully kidnapped me,” Asami said. “I mean, at the time it was fun, it was kind of necessary. But when I got home, I freaked out. I was afraid that if I ever said no to you would you listen? Even though going with you was what I wanted. I could have left if I wanted to. But part of me, an irrational part of me, was terrified that ‘no’ was never an option with you. So that when it came time for us again I was already under considerable strain and even though I could have spared maybe a half hour, I flipped and went to the extreme opposite. I pushed you away so that I wouldn’t get too deep into our relationship, or so that I could save myself from pain or keep you at a distance where it felt comfortable for me. I don’t know.”

            Korra’s face had fallen, the color had drained from it like water through a sieve. She had a look of unbridled horror on her face.

            “I’m so so so sorry,” Korra muttered, her lips barely moving. “You can just leave me in Peru and I’ll never bother you again.”

            “What?”

            “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything and oh my god. I want to jump out of this plane right the hell now.”

            “Korra. You didn’t do anything wrong. I was blaming you for the potentiality of you doing something wrong.”

            “No. No. I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I never, ever want you to feel like you can’t say no to me. Oh god. You didn’t even want me here. Oh fuck me. When we land I’m going to catch the first flight back. Oh god. I’m sorry Asami. I’ll just go hide in the bathroom until we land. Or the cargo hold,” Korra got up and fled to the bathroom, sliding the lock into place before Asami could even move.

            This was too much to deal with on a hangover. Asami rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was starting to come to an understanding with herself (and with Korra). What she wanted and what she felt most comfortable with were slightly different things. And as much as she needed to be alone, it looked like Korra needed to not be alone.

            And this was turning into a whole issue and Asami had no idea what was going on anymore.

            Her tired, hungover, air pressure squeezed mind was having trouble formulating a response. In fact it was having such trouble that she didn’t realize that she had fallen asleep for forty five minutes.

            When she woke back up, she pounded on the bathroom door.

            “Korra, come out of there,” she demanded. “One I have to pee. Two do you really think I would take you on my corporate jet on an international flight if I didn’t want to?”

            The latch slid open and Korra stepped out. She mumbled something about hiding in there once Asami was done.

            “Ok, now you’re just being creepy,” Asami said as she closed the door.

            A few minutes later Asami exited the bathroom and barred Korra from trying to get back in.

            “No, you’ve gotten most of my tragic backstory and my emotional baggage,” Asami said as she stopped Korra from entering the bathroom. “Your turn to share. Or you can make this friendship just as one-sided as it was before, just in reverse.”

            Korra sighed. “You read all my Blackwood novels?”

            Asami nodded.

            “ _The Warrior and the Conqueror_?”

            “One of my favorites.”

            Korra winced. “You should have figured out that most of my Blackwood novels are based on real life. Sort of. Each of them has a nugget of truth in them somewhere. What did you think of it?”

            “ _Warrior_? I liked it. I thought it was raw and harsh and dark. Not the usual harlequin stuff. I fucking hated Katie, the Conqueror though. What a bitch. So manipulative and cold and a fucking cold hearted bitch.”

            “Yeah, that was Kuvira,” Korra sighed as she slumped into the chair. “She was my first. My first girlfriend, my first serious relationship, my first sexual experience. She was my everything for a good long while.”

            “How much of it was true?” Asami asked.

            “About half,” Korra said. “I mean I took some artistic liberties with the time frame and the order of events. And I gave the Warrior a better ending. But all of the manipulation, all of the fights, everything, that was all real. That was all me and Kuvira.”

            “Oh my god.”

            “My entire time in that relationship I felt afraid to say no to her. I couldn’t dig myself out of it. And now you’re telling me I was doing the same thing. The same goddamn thing!”

            “Korra… No… I mean not really. I never felt conned by you or anything. If I didn’t want to be with you, I mean really really didn’t, I wouldn’t have been there. And remember the fact that the one time I actually demanded that you leave me alone, really truly didn’t want it, you left. Granted I didn’t do it in the best of terms, but still you obliged.”

            “Then what about this?” Korra asked.

            “Really? You don’t think I could have gotten you kicked off if I didn’t really want you here?” Asami said. There was a pause in the confessional, the only sounds were the dull roar of the engines and that empty silence of things still unspoken and unsettled. Finally Asami spoke, “How about this? How about all of the shit we’ve done to each other before, all of this stupid fucking shit is forgiven, forgotten about? We just wipe the slate clean, no fights, no sex, no silences, just tabula rasa. Going forward we just start over, for real this time. If ever we need space or something, just use the word kumquat. How does that sound?”

            “Ok, ok,” Korra said, still looking down. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to out negotiate a business woman.”

            The both of them offered small, weary smiles. Smiles that didn’t say anything about happiness, more about resignation.

            “I’m still going catch the next flight home,” Korra told her. “This has been too much.”

            “You should stay. I’m going to need a friend here,” Asami countered. “I need someone to lean on. I feel myself slipping. It’s not my empire crumbling, it’s me. And besides, do you hearing me saying anything about fruit?”

            “You sure?”

            “Positive.”

            “Ok.”

            “Two broken people leaning on each other for support. Now I’m still super hungover and we still have like five hours to go, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to pass out,” Asami said.

            Korra just offered a sad smile and nodded. She was feeling exhausted too, emotionally and physically. She’d also been up to like five am taking care of Asami. So at the first opportunity she sat down in the chair across from her… friend and promptly fell asleep.

            Six hours later the plane landed in Lima, Peru, jolting both women awake.

            Korra’s eyes snapped open as she wiped the drool from her face. “We there yet?” she asked sleepily.

            “Yeah, looks like it.”

            The two awake-but-at-what-cost women got off the plane and went to the hotel.

            “I forgot to tell June that there were going to be two people,” Asami said as she looked at the single queen sized bed.

            “I could take the floor, or the… bathtub?” Korra asked. She didn’t sleep well on the plane, and that was translating to her brain not functioning totally.

            “Korra, I’m too tired to give a shit. You want one half of the bed? It’s huge.”

            “But….”

            “Look at me,” Asami said. The bags under her eyes were legendary, her hair was unkempt and ridiculous, and she looked like she might kill a man at any given point. “Do you want to sleep with this?”

            “I mean if you’re offering…” Korra said with a forced little smile, sarcasm slipping out.

            “You’re ridiculous. How about I saw kumquat to sex and we just pass out on this bed and worry about emotional consequences in the morning?”

            Korra climbed on top of the sheets, grabbed a pillow, and said through a yawn, “If you insist.”

            Both of them were asleep in moments.

            When Asami awoke early, as is her disposition, she noticed two things: her headache was gone, and Korra is fucking adorable when asleep. Her hair was long, knotty, waves that stuck up at odd angles. But the lines in her face were smoothed out, making her look younger than she was. Korra’s skin just begged to be caressed and kissed and it was time to get in the shower before she stared for much longer.

            Korra, however, awoke to see Asami creeping out of the bathroom, gorgeous black hair wet and hanging free around her naked shoulders, clad in nothing but a towel.

            “What time is it?” she groaned.

            “Almost seven,” Asami said. “The shower is all yours. I might have used all the hot water.”

            “I could probably use a cold shower anyways,” Korra mumbled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

            Green eyes were rolled as she picked out clothing for her press conference that afternoon.

            After showers and clothing was taken care of, the pair descended to the first floor of the hotel for breakfast and it was only after several cups of coffee that Korra was even remotely conversational.

            “What are you going to introduce me as when it comes to all of this business stuff?” she asked eventually.

            “I was thinking of referring to you as my emotional support puppy.”

            Korra nodded and shrugged before seeing how much of her bagel she could fit in her mouth at once due to sheer laziness of having to bring the food to her mouth and put it back down again.

            From there the day was busy. Korra tagged along behind Asami as they visited the hospital to see to the wounded. Thankfully no one was terribly hurt and most were getting ready to be discharged already. Asami was personally attending to each and every injured Future Industries’ employee that was even remotely hurt.

            Korra could speak very limited Spanish if pressed, but to her it seemed that both Asami and the Peruvians were speaking something else entirely, so she just stood slightly behind the CEO trying to be reassuring without actually doing anything unprompted.

            After touring the hospital and inspecting the damage to Asami’s factory, the pale woman pulled Korra into a hug. It felt desperate and clingy, like someone trying to hold on to something real or a feeling from a dream before being ripped away into wakefulness.

            She relished the contact and the smell of her perfume, but once Asami started to pull away Korra dropped her hands immediately.

            From the hug Asami had to go almost right to the press conference. Korra was instructed to hide behind the dark maroon Future Industries’ curtain while Asami stood on the other side under the lights.

            She spoke for a while in Spanish and Korra tried to follow, but she just couldn’t. Instead she just watched the crowd. Reporters, employees, random citizens. To keep her mind occupied while Asami spoke and answered questions, Korra imagined what kind of lives the people lived. There was a word for it, but she couldn’t think of what it was.

            She was fascinated by a serious looking man with a completely bald head and intense, angry looking eyes. Korra wondered if the deliberate head shaving and pissed disposition was because he went prematurely bald. He was reaching for something in his jacket.

            Korra wondered if it was Rogaine for just a second. But that was when she realized she’s seen this movie before.

            It was a gun.

            Asami was going to get shot.

            Korra was moving before she even knew what was happening.

            The world had gone on mute because there was no sound, or maybe it was all just drowned out by her desperate shouting for Asami to move.

            She’d never moved this quickly before in her life. Korra sprinted across the stage and pushed Asami aside when all of her momentum suddenly and completely stopped.

            First the feeling of suddenly being unable to move, like she sprinted towards a cliff’s edge and stopping right before she fell. Then the sound, three sharp cracks like thunder confined in a cage. Immediately preceding that was pain, hot almost liquid pain, like she was being burning with a hot pan on the inside of her chest. That’s when Korra realized she really was falling, there was no ground beneath her feet anymore.

            The crowd immediately scattered at the sound of the three bullets being fired.

            From her position on the ground to the left of the podium, Asami didn’t see what happened. But she heard it. She turned to see Korra sway slightly and fall backwards slowly, like gravity didn’t seem to want to take her.

            “Korra?” Asami asked, voice catching on the knowledge in her throat if not in her brain.

            The only response she got was a desperate choking sound and a sputtered red blood bubble from Korra’s mouth.

            “Korra!” she yelled as a bloodied hand reached for her, blue eyes wide and terrified and desperate for help.

            With a shaking hand Asami grabbed Korra’s red stained hand.

            “No no no no no, Korra.”

            The grip was weakening, the power in the hand was fading like the tide, slow and inevitable.

            In a desperate attempt to do something, anything, Asami pressed her hands to the pools of blood that seemed to cover the entirety of Korra’s chest.

            Asami held Korra’s blue eyed gaze till they closed a second later.

            “KORRA!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that ending?  
> Anywho. I'm on vacation for the next week, and will be rather without the internet.  
> I look forward to coming back to an overwhelming amount and hate thrown my way. (I'm going to need the fuel to finish one of my other novels I'm writing)
> 
> I'll be back in like two weeks (or however long it takes me to write myself ahead a bit) with more of the same.  
> >:D


	9. Belly of the Whale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is not something that happens overnight. Putting words to emotions, to that vast emptiness in your soul carved by lead, can be almost impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more teasers or waiting, new chapter time! Yayayayayayayay.
> 
> "Well things change fast, and this too shall pass, you'd better carve it on your forehead or tattoo it on your ass"

            She’d been staring at that blinking cursor on the blank page for almost an hour and a half now.

            What should she say? What could she say?

            How does she put into words everything she wanted to say? Everything she needed to say.

            How does she describe that absence, that familiar, empty, heartbreaking, all encompassing absence that she’s felt for the last three months?

            This absence killed the relationship last time, and she had this sinking, depressed feeling that it was happening again.

            But the words weren’t there. She couldn’t figure out how to say _anything_.

            The TV in the background provided noise in the fairly large apartment she found herself in.

            “The Wrath of Asami Sato” was the current headline and had been for the last two months.

            “I would hate to be the Red Lotus, or anyone that owes Sato money,” said the fake tan, fake haired news announcer. “After the attempt on Miss Sato’s life three months ago, she’s been on a one woman crusade. She turned her company inside out looking for any connection to the terrorist organization which resulted in almost a thousand people arrested on Future Industries’ grounds along with an innumerable amount of lawsuits against those individuals for breach of contract. Then today, if you haven’t seen it already, while Miss Sato was preparing to testify against the shooter of the author Korra in Lima, Peru, she was once again attacked by a Red Lotus member. And luckily we have exclusive footage from inside the courtroom.”

            A shaky, blurry image that was likely recorded on a phone showed someone standing up from the crowd and pointing a weapon as Asami. The gun misfired, and before anyone could do anything Asami had jumped out of the witness stand, vaulted over the low barrier between the crowd and the court, and scissor kicked the shooter to the ground.

            “The reports say that the shooter is alive and in good condition, considering Miss Sato broke both of his arms and three of his ribs,” the announcer said. “Miss Sato declined to comment on her war against the Red Lotus or on the condition of the woman who no doubt saved her life, Korra, who has not been seen in public since the event.”

            Korra frowned. She couldn’t bring herself to leave her parents’ place since being shot, nor could she stand to be in any place more crowded than four people. It had been three months of not leaving this apartment. It had been three months of Korra being completely silent, neither by choice nor want. It felt like she had bleed away all of her words in Lima.

            But even worse than lacking words was having to watch Asami get attacked over and over again.

            The little cursor blinked at her, mocking her with each second. The white page was laughing at her.

            The two hundred read but unanswered emails from Asami were two hundred little wounds. The dozens of messages from Bolin and Mako didn’t hurt as much.

            She just couldn’t think of anything to say.

            She took a deep breath and even though the doctors told her that her chest had been healed, the broken ribs had put themselves back together, it still hurt to breathe.

            Finally she wrote four simple words, “I hope you’re ok.”

            The first four words she’s written in months. And it felt like she had to climb up a mountain to do it.

            It didn’t feel cathartic or energizing or wonderful like it usually does to write. It just felt draining. And Korra hated herself as she hit the send button.

            Why did she feel this way? Why did she kind of hate herself for surviving? Why did she hate herself for saving Asami? Why was it so hard for to go to sleep every night?

            While Korra stared at the “Sent” message on the computer, contemplating her situation and how much she wished she felt more than just kind of apathetic hate towards herself, she heard a knock at the door.

            She didn’t bother to look up from the computer. Her parents had taken to knocking when they come home, to let her know they were back. If it was anyone else, she wouldn’t even bother to answer the door so what would be the point?

            “Korra?” came a voice she almost didn’t recognize. “For the record I’m fine.”

            She finally tore her eyes away from the computer screen to see Asami walking gracefully into her parents’ apartment in Victoria.

            “Hey,” she said with a warm and genuine smile. “Sorry it took me so long to come visit. It has been hell out there. How are you doing?”

            Korra smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

            “Hey yourself.”

            “You look much better since we Skype’d last,” Asami said as she dropped her shoulder bag near the door. “How are you healing?”

            “Physically? I’m done healing,” Korra said. She didn’t want to bring up the rest of the problems she was having, the writer’s block, the self hate. Asami had enough on her plate, and Korra couldn’t stand her own weakness much less being a burden to the flawless Asami.

            The heiress crossed the room and put her arms around Korra.

            “This is the first time I’ve actually gotten to see you since you’ve gotten out of the hospital,” Asami said as she pulled Korra into a tighter hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

            Korra’s heart was rising, she felt the lump in her throat, and the tears creeping out of her eyes. She tried to fight it, to keep it all inside.

            But before she knew it she was crying on to Asami’s shoulder.

            “What is it?” Asami asked once Korra had calmed down enough to speak.

            “I can’t,” Korra muttered. “I can’t.”

            “You can’t what?” Asami asked, her green eyes studying every inch of Korra’s hurt expression.

            “I can’t…” Korra said as she took a shaky, deep breath, that brought shudders to her chest as she tried, and failed, to breathe evenly. “I can’t go back to New York with you.”

            Asami was stunned, because she didn’t expect Korra to have remembered that. She said that when Korra was ready, they could go back to New York. She’d help her find an apartment, and they could, finally, get back to being friends.

            “Take your time, no one is pressuring you to come back to New York if you don’t want,” Asami said, trying to hold her gaze, but Korra kept dropping her eyes in shame. “You can stay here for as long as you need. I came by to see you, to thank you, to spend some time here as I take a break from my life.”

            Korra just gave a noncommittal nod.

            “So if you want to talk, I’m here, but if you don’t I’m just going to vent about work for a bit if you don’t mind,” Asami said as she stood up off the floor and pulled a chair over to Korra’s. She sat down and held Korra’s hand as she talked for over an hour about work and all of the troubles she’d been having with the just everything.

            Korra paid attention to every word, every gesture Asami made, even if her expression didn’t change and she said nothing to contribute.

            “Well that’s work,” Asami said with an exasperated sigh. “Thanks for listening.”

            Then, without giving any thought to the action, Asami leaned over and gave Korra a light kiss on the cheek.

            It was the closest contact they’ve had since… well since they slept together well over a year ago.

            “Ok, I’m starving and the airports have terrible food. Where was that one delicious place you ordered food from that one time?” Asami asked. “Lau Gai’s?”

            Korra nodded.

            “I’m going to get me some delivery,” Asami said. “What would you like? I know you’re big on noodles, any kind in particular?”

            Korra shook her head.

            “Pad Thai? With chicken?”

            She nodded.

            “Do your parents want anything you think?” Asami asked, but Korra just shrugged. “Eh, I’ll just order a whole bunch of stuff.”

            An hour later they were sitting in silence eating all the Thai food, as apparently Asami just ordered catering considering the sheer amount of food she ordered.

            Korra’s parents come back and finally greeted Asami, and they made small talk. Asami thanked them for putting her up for the night, with all the traveling she’d been doing she was exhausted.

            The night ended with Asami putting on _Wall-E_ and sitting on the couch next to Korra who found herself watching the film without really remembering if she wanted to.

            By the time the credits rolled, Asami had fallen asleep, her hand still holding on to Korra’s.

            She seemed to sense when Korra turned off the TV, and turned slightly so that her cheek was resting on Korra’s shoulder.

            Asami looked so peaceful, so serene while she slept that it was another thing for Korra to feel bad about: having to move. So instead she just stayed as still as possible, unwilling to disturb the sleeping woman even a little.

            If felt like blinking, where all of a sudden Korra closed her eyes and woke up with a blanket covering both herself and the still snoozing Asami. Senna must have come it at some point and covered them both with a blanket.

            For the first time in months Korra felt somewhere in the vague realm of rested. She felt like she’d actually gotten a decent night’s sleep for the first time in a long time, so it only served to make her even more exhausted.

            “Mmm,” Asami moaned. “What time is it?”

            “Almost nine thirty,” Korra muttered. It felt weird making words with her mouth. She’d spent so long maintaining a stony silence, that merely speaking was almost a forgotten skill.

            “Sorry,” Asami muttered into Korra’s shoulder. “I fell asleep on you. You could have pushed me over. I can’t imagine it was terribly comfortable for you.”

            “It was fine.”

            Finally Asami sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What’s for breakfast?”

            After getting another massive food deliver (this time bagels), the pair sat in another silence.

            “How long are you going to stay?” Korra asked tentatively.

            “I took a week off,” Asami answered. “I got someone covering everything for me. I could be here longer or shorter, depending on emergencies or if you need me to stay.”

            Korra’s heart beat against the walls of her chest and screamed and yelled to tell her to stay, to get her to hold you one more time. But her head was in charge and her head was not right and she knew, but still she said, “I’m fine, stay as long as you want.”

            Because some stupid part of her thought that admitting weakness was worse than anything else.

            “Then it seems like I’ll be here for a while,” Asami said. “I managed to get myself a small place, well I mean I rented _that_ hotel room for the next week. If you want, you can help me move in and we can hang out with the pay-per-view.”

            Korra shrugged.

            “Come on, we can have a bit of a change of scenery,” Asami said as she extended a hand to help Korra stand up off the couch.

            An hour later Korra found herself in the exact same hotel room that she shared with Asami all those months ago.

            Asami was in the bathroom laughing, “Korra come here.”

            With a blank expression Korra walked over to the bathroom where Asami pointed to a little sign next to the hot tub.

            “Hot tub for lounging ONLY” it read.

            “I think that was because of us.”

            Korra grinned, not wide and bright eyed like she would have before, but it was a smile none-the-less and for a moment she felt like she was her old self.

            For the next couple of days Korra spent most of her time with Asami in the hotel room they once almost ruined with all their sex. Slowly she started to feel better, to feel happier, but at the end of the fifth day Asami was called away to a Future Industries emergency which meant that for a few nights Korra had to sleep by herself again.

            She didn’t realize it until Asami was gone and she couldn’t sleep with their hands touching or the feel of Asami’s hands in her hair or just her presence in the room, but she missed her. A piece of her soul felt like it was gone with Asami around. She slipped back into her quiet, reserved, bitter depression when Asami was gone.

            Or maybe that hole in her soul was always there, maybe her depression never left. Maybe Asami just made it feel better temporarily.

            She was gone for three days. And for two of those, Korra got drunk enough to pass out, because it made it easier to deal, easier to sleep. Even though she felt even more exhausted than she did the night before.

            Some part of her knew that this was unsustainable, that it would probably kill her before too long. But fuck it. What else was she going to do? How else was she supposed to sleep?

            When Asami returned, Korra met her at the airport and couldn’t help but smile just a little at the sight of her, and her pulse quickening, her heart leaping in her chest.

            That night, back in Asami’s hotel room, the CEO said, “I want to show you something.”

            “What is it?” Korra asked, but Asami said nothing, she just extended her hand and pulled Korra off the queen sized bed and held on to it as she led her out of the hotel room and up the stairs.

            From there they went to the roof and looked out over the small city.

            “It’s still so pretty up here,” Asami said. “It was when we were up here the first time, after that blizzard ended and it still is now. Now it’s not nearly as cold.”

            “Yeah,” Korra responded as they gazed across the city expanse.

            Asami pulled Korra in close and locked their hands together, interlacing their fingers.

            “You know, you’ll probably get tired of me saying this over and over again, but thank you,” Asami whispered. She was keeping her voice low, partially out of a desire to have Korra lean in close to hear her, but also through some semi-crazed desire to keep the conversation just between the two of them. “I hate seeing you hurting. I wish you didn’t take those bullets for me, because each time I see you with that slightly pained expression on your face it hurts so much to know there’s nothing I can do for you. Korra, you’re my best friend as stupid as that sounds. I don’t really have any friends other than you and you’ve stuck with me through the lowest part of my life, you saw me at my worst and you stuck through it. You took a goddamn bullet for me. No one else I know would be willing to do that for me. It hurts seeing you depressed like this. Every second I’m not with you, I’m thinking about you. Every second I’m with you, you occupy my attention like nothing else ever has. I know our history as been messy at best, but I’ve finally come around to admitting something that I’m not sure has always been there or if it is new but is coloring everything that came before, I love you Korra. You are just about my everything. And I know you’re depressed and everything and I wouldn’t expect you to say it back, but I just felt like you should know. I wanted to tell you so that when you feel like you can, or you’re willing, would you be willing to try again? You can come back to New York with me whenever and maybe start this whole being dorks in love thing again? Or I guess for the first time.”

            Korra didn’t know what to say. Four months ago she would have been over the moon to hear those words. And she wanted nothing more than to say them back, to tell Asami that she really did love her back.

            There was just so much hate that she had for herself in the moment for not feeling it, for not really feeling that love that she knew was there at one point. God how she hated herself for not being able to say something, anything. Depressed Korra couldn’t say those magic words, she couldn’t flip that switch. She couldn’t feel something that had felt ripped from her, those bullets had taken more than her life for a couple of minutes, they had taken more than her blood and bones. It replaced skin with scar tissue, love with hate. It replaced Korra with someone who was not her and didn’t deserve any of the things that Korra had.

            Instead she just nodded tersely, and patted Asami’s hand.

            “I know that this is going to take some time,” Asami said gently, still holding on to Korra’s hand. There were tears staining her green eyes, they were welling up, unable or unwilling to start falling yet. “I know that you need time to heal, but I want you to know, unequivocally, without a doubt, that I’ll be there for you when you’re ready. If it is in five hours, five days, five weeks, months or years. I’ll be here for you. Ready when you are.”

            Even though she didn’t know it, that was exactly what Korra needed to hear at that moment in time.

            “Thanks Asami,” Korra muttered, meaning it more than she’s ever meant anything before, even if it didn’t sound it.

            They said nothing else, just held hands quietly on the roof watching the sun set and the lights wink slowly into life one by one.

            Eventually the temperature dropped and the two women walked back inside.

            When Asami had to leave a week later, Korra felt better if not entirely back to where she was before.

            But this time it seemed like the Future Industries’ CEO was going to be gone a lot longer than before. The trials for all the captured Red Lotus members, which was a fairly small organization for the amount of destruction they caused, was starting and since Asami was the principal target and therefore witness, she had to be present for most of the trial, which didn’t leave much out of the country travel.

            Korra knew this, and with this knowledge came the tiniest spark, a small desire. Which was more than she ever had since she was shot.

            It was the spark that said, “It was time to go back.”

            But the thing about the spark was that it was small and it could be easily blown out.

            The next time Korra had a good day, which was almost a week and a half after Asami left for the last time, she finally scheduled the elective surgery to remove the remaining two bullets that were lodged in her torso. Since the bullets were sterile and removing them at the time was the last priority to keeping her alive, they remained inside Korra. But now it was time to have them removed. To take out the poison of the Red Lotus.

            After the out-patient surgery, Korra’s spark was almost dead. The depression wave had hit her hard as she recovered from the operation. However, a week afterwards, she found that spark was still there. Feeding that fire, that desire, was the ache she felt that came from her longing to see Asami again.

            On a day that the spark had lit a raging fire, Korra cut off almost all of her hair. Once down passed her shoulders, she cut her hair into a bob that barely went passed her chin. Somehow the change only seemed to spur her forward. She told her parents she was heading back to New York, they dropped her off at the airport, but instead of boarding the plane Korra rented a car to carry her and Naga all the way across the country to New York.

            Although she didn’t plan on taking five months like last time, it did take much longer than she would have expected.

            She had good days were she drove fast and far and stopped for nothing, her mind cooking up fantasies of bursting into Asami’s office and declaring her love for her and scooping up in her arms.

            She also had bad days where she doubled up on her rented motel room stay and didn’t leave the bed. Her fantasies had turned dark and tragic and kept her huddling in the dark next to Naga’s warm bulk.

            A trip that should have taken five days took almost a month. Korra was writing more, even if it was just emails and letters lying to Tenzin, lying to her parents about where she was and what she was doing.

            The final stretch, the long drive through New York State, took three days, as Korra was hit hard by the creeping depression and she spent more time than she would have liked to admit in a sleazy motel just outside New York City, paralyzed by fear at seeing Asami again.

            When she finally get muster the courage to go into the city the first thing she did was call up Future Industries and see if Asami was in the office.

            When she got the confirmation that she’d be in her office all day, Korra parked the car and went up to see her.

            Butterflies danced a nauseous dance in her stomach as the elevator crawled up slowly to the top floor.

            When the doors slid open and Korra walked into the reception area, the assistant June saw her and smiled.

            “Go right in,” she said as she picked up the phone and started canceling the rest of Asami’s appointments for the day.

            Korra pushed open the doors to Asami’s office and her heart flipped as she saw the dark haired woman sitting at her desk, looking tired and filling out paperwork.

            Asami looked up and her green eyes widened when she saw blue.

            “Korra!”

            “Hey,” she responded, instantly feeling a blush cross her cheeks.

            Asami leapt up and pulled Korra into a tight hug.

            “Hey, yourself. I missed you, and I like you hair, it looks good on you,” Asami said as she pulled back to look Korra in the eye.

            Instantly the fourteen different prepared speeches Korra had planned for this moment vaporized when she looked into Asami’s eyes and got lost.

            “I…” Korra started. “About what you said, on the roof…”

            “Yeah?”

            “Me too.”

            The smile that lit up Asami’s face was hands down the most beautiful thing Korra had ever seen.

            Her hands were shaking as she pulled Asami in to a tender, soft, nervous little kiss.

            After a few breathless seconds Asami pulled back and smiled. “You know for a romance novelist, you are certainly very eloquent with your speech.”

            “Yeah…”

            “Korra? I love you, I really really do.”

            “Me too.”

            “You’re such a dork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't claim to know how depression works for everyone or even anyone other than me, so I don't know if anyone will view Korra's depression/PTSD as "working" as presented. All I know is that when I was shot several times trying to take down a rogue terrorist-anarchist group this is what it felt like for me. [/jokes]  
> So yeah... there's that.  
> Also just because we end this chapter on a positive note don't think that any of these issues are done with.


	10. The Hero as Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra is still fighting that uphill battle against herself, Asami tries to help as best as she can. And maybe, just maybe, things are going to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back to doing the "shadow puppet" version of sex. So this is definitely mature, not explicit.
> 
> Also: wait for it (hint: there's some foreshadowing right in the beginning) waaaaaaiiiiiiit for iiiiiiiiiiit

            Despite all of the shit Asami Sato has gone through over the last two years: Korra, the sixth month silence, the reunion, the fights, the makeups, the arrests, the corporate problems, the terrorist attacks, Korra, the depression, and the final reunion seven months ago, Asami was now the happiest she’d ever been.

            Korra and Asami found each other, it seemed to her, during the lowest point of their lives and if Asami found herself in love with someone when all of their flaws were ready, apparent, and rearing their ugly heads than she thought that there was nothing Korra could possibly do to ever get Asami to stop loving her. Unless, what was it Korra said that one time? Unless she stabbed her or started dating one of her exes.

             Asami still had work troubles, which would be a constant problem she realized, and Korra still had her depressed episodes. But each of them was there for the other during these periods. Asami seemingly had an innate knowledge of what to do when Korra was feeling down, and Korra was perfect for getting Asami to relax.

            This particular day had been a long day for her, meetings and yelling and meetings and firings and the starting of renegotiating military contracts. For Korra the day was long and blank. She’d been trying to write for several hours, with absolutely nothing coming out. Even forcing the words yielded nothing of value, some stupid drabbles that always wound up going back to Asami.

            She felt the pendulum swinging back towards her being in a depressed state and whenever she started to feel like that she decided that she would do something for Asami. If she was going to be sad and useless and another thing for Asami to worry about or take care of, she’d at least apologize beforehand. So Korra decided to cook dinner for her.

            In the apartment’s fridge Korra dug out ingredients for dinner. She was feeling stir-fry. And for a second she recognized the strangeness of their situation. Korra kind of accidentally moved in. She’d come back to New York without a plan or a place to stay, she kind of figured she’d stay with Tenzin again, but now that she was actually with Asami, she just suggested she stay with her until Korra located a place.

            With her book sitting around #7 on the New York Times bestseller list for the fifth week (it was at #1 the first two weeks after the shooting and has been steadily declining for a while) Korra had plenty of royalty checks and money to spend on an apartment. The problem was that she just liked Asami’s place too much, and they both agreed that they slept much better cuddled together.

            So they’d officially been together for all of two hours and they moved in together. Not that either of them minded.

            What Asami found when she came home was the smell of delicious food being cooked (and Korra had a real talent for cooking) along with all of the sounds that usually come with Korra in the kitchen (loud music, banging, sounds of dancing, singing along). The dining room table was littered with candles and all the serving utensils with the random silver wine cooler Asami was gifted long ago filled with ice with a bottle of wine chilling.

            In the kitchen she found Korra dancing (mostly just shaking her hips) to music as she stirred a wok with a large wooden spoon.

            “Hey,” Asami said with a smile.

            Korra turned around and what she saw was Asami looking exhausted, as usual. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyes downcast and tired looking. But she wore a bemused little smile that seemed to energize her just a little bit.

            “Hey yourself,” Korra responded. “We’re having stir-fry tonight, because that’s what I wanted.”

            “Sounds delicious,” Asami said as she set down her briefcase.

            She slid up behind Korra and wrapped her arms around her middle and rested her chin in the crook of the shorter woman’s shoulder.

            Together they danced to whatever it was that Korra was listening to as she finished up the food.

            “How was your day?” Korra asked as she turned off the stove and started to carry the food to the table.

            Asami sighed as she sank heavily into the chair at the head of the table. “Long.”

            “I can tell.”

            Korra served food while Asami poured wine.

            “You’re the best girlfriend ever,” Asami said after the first bite of food and Korra’s heart did a little leap at the compliment, the same way it did every single time Asami called her “her girlfriend”.

            They ate and made small talk, well Asami vented about work, and Korra listened attentively.

            Just as they were polishing off the last of the stir-fry, Asami asked, “You been writing lately?”

            “Less than I’d like,” Korra said rising from the table. She put her hands on Asami’s shoulders and started to gently caress them, as much as she wanted to attend to Asami she was also using it as a distracting technique to avoid talking about her shortcomings as a writer. “You still look super tense.”

            Asami groaned into Korra’s strong fingers as she found just the right spots. But there was a problem, her dress shirt was still in the way.

            With a few quick movements, Asami unbuttoned the shirt and discarded it, to give Korra direct access to her skin.

            As always Korra’s hands were warm, and they felt like heaven removing tension one little caress at a time.

            “May I?” Korra asked quietly as she slipped the bra strap out of the way.

            Asami leaned back, put on hand on the back of Korra’s head to pull her into a kiss. “You may,” she said once they broke away.

            Korra spent another few minutes on Asami’s shoulders when she said, “I think I’ve got everything there.”

            Her hands left pale skin, fingertips slowly dragging away, reluctant to part from Asami’s flawless skin.

            Asami turned around in her chair to look at Korra, “You want to… keep going? I feel tense all over the place.”

            Her green eyes weren’t filled with lust or wanting or need, but almost a gentle pleading a look that said more, “We could have sex if you want, but only if you want.”

            At that moment, Korra almost melted.

            She was a little conflicted to be honest, she loved Asami with everything she had, which, at this moment in time, didn’t feel like much. And she wanted to, she really did. But she was scarred now, broken and wounded. They hadn’t been intimate since the first time two years ago. Asami hasn’t even seen Korra naked, she hasn’t seen the scars.

            “You don’t have to,” Asami said. “I understand.”

            Korra grabbed her hand. “But I want to.”

            “Korra…”

            “Asami, I haven’t said anything about fruit.”

            She rolled her eyes and smiled. “You know sometimes I regret using that as my safe word.”

            Korra just grinned back and she helped Asami stand up.

            Each kiss was a fraction more passionate than the last. Starting off as tender, soft, gentle even before getting closer to needy and desperate and lusty, but never crossing the border into clothes ripping off territory.

            After several minutes in the dining room, Asami pulled Korra into the bedroom.

            They moved slowly, hands teasing at clothing, lips never roaming very far, like it was their very first time.

            It was only when Korra took a moment to lean back and appreciate the view of Asami that she really committed. The pale woman with her dark hair splayed out behind her, her skirt partially unbuttoned, the line of her collar bone, and her hips. Korra smiled and kissed Asami hard and passionate, instantly the intensity fed into Asami and she returned the passion with equal force.

            The short haired woman kissed her lover’s jaw and neck and shoulders as she pulled off her bra. Then, in one movement, she pulled off her skirt and panties to have Asami naked in almost no time.

            For a moment, Korra admired the view. “It does the heart good to be reminded how perfect you are.”

            The only thing Asami wore was a blush and a smile.

            Her lover cracked her knuckles and smiled, “Let’s see if I remember how to do this.”

            Asami laughed, “You’re so lame.”

            “You love it.”

            “I love you,” Asami grinned into Korra’s kiss as her hands started roaming, teasing, enticing.

            Her hands really were magic, they were warm and soft and they removed all of the worry and the tension and the heartache from Asami’s skin and soul.

            “Oh my god Korra,” she cried. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Oh god! I _love_ you.”

            Asami pulled her up to and kissed her with thanks and grateful ecstasy.

            Her long, pale fingers start pulling off Korra’s shirt.

            With the garment off, Asami say the tan woman’s chest for the first time in a long time.

            Three scars marred the slightly less toned than before chest. Like three chips in glass, jagged, broken wounds, closed but not softened. Healed but not free from pain. Scars, raw and horrific. Flaws on perfect skin marking horrible wounds and past mistakes.

            For a second, just the smallest sliver of recognizable time, Korra saw sadness in Asami’s eyes, hurt reflected in green.

            Asami kissed Korra’s neck, but she panicked and almost pushed Asami away.

            “Korra?” Asami asked, now looking with concern.

            “Asami… I can’t… I… kumquat.”

            “Oh Korra,” Asami said, she kissed Korra’s nose. Then she picked up shirts off the floor, gave Korra’s back to her, slipped on her own and then held Korra as they lay in bed.

            With pale arms wrapped around her middle, Korra slipped into uneasy sleep carried by little whispers of, “I love you.” and “you’re beautiful.” and “thank you.”

            By the time Korra awoke the next morning, Asami had already woken and gone. According to the note on the table, she had some kind of lunch meeting and would be gone for a couple of hours, but would hopefully be back before too long.

            Korra smiled at the note and then added it to the small collection that she had growing in her desk. Every note that Asami ever wrote her (included those 213 business cards) had been kept and hidden away in Korra’s desk.

            From there she went to the bathroom and saw herself in the mirror. She’d stared at the reflection, it didn’t look like her, at least it didn’t look like how Korra wanted herself to look. Her muscles were less defined, almost nine months of depression and sedimentary lifestyle had brought back some of her fat. Sure she was still more fit than most people and was by no means anywhere near being fat, but to Korra she looked horrible.

            Even worse when she thought of how amazing Asami looked all the damn time. She used to compete with that.

            She didn’t feel like she could put words down on a page, so she dug her gym bag out of the closet, threw some workout clothes in it, and headed out to the gym.

            Korra might be depressed and unable to write and kinda useless, and if she was going to have all this time on her hands, she might as well burn some calories.

            After a few weeks of an intense workout schedule Korra started to get back to her old shape. She might not have even recognized it, but one day, it was indistinguishable from the ones around it, she woke up not completely hating herself or being depressed without a reason. But still she was tired so maybe that was why she didn’t notice the day was different.

            She went to the gym, worked out for two hours, went back to the apartment, showered, changed, sat down at her old ass typewriter and wrote almost seven hundred words. It was a nothing story, just some descriptions, a couple of lines of dialogue, something that she said to Asami the other day. It could work as part of a Blackwood novel, and she was considering telling a more true-to-life version of the events between Asami and her. She was already thinking of titles.

            When Asami came home that day she already knew something was different. Korra was nowhere to be found, the apartment was seemingly empty. In fact, the only sign of life was the distant clicks of the typewriter slowly chugging away as Korra typed.

            She had her headphones in and was dancing in her chair as her fingers moved with deliberate, slow motions, typing out letters with a shred of the confidence that Korra/Marsha Blackwood used to have.

            Asami was grinning from ear to ear as she stood in the door, just watching Korra go.

            All of a sudden, she noticed she was being watched and jumped in surprise. “Asami! Hey!”

            Still grinning Asami responded, “Hey yourself. You look good.”

            “What time is it?” Korra asked as she pulled out her headphones.

            “Almost eight,” Asami answered. “I got held up in a meeting with Varrick.”

            “One of these days I’m going to have to have a talk with that man about delaying my girlfriend all the time.”

            Korra practically jumped out of the chair and moved to Asami.

            “Did you forget to eat again?” Asami asked.

            “Maybe?” Korra said as she put her hands on Asami’s hips and pulled her in close.

            “We should probably get some dinner,” she whispered as Korra’s lips got progressively closer to her own.

            “Or, if you’re up to it,” Korra whispered back, each time she said a word her lips brushed across Asami’s, “we could eat in.”

            “You read my mind.”

            Korra finally pushed through that last little barrier separating them and kissed her girlfriend before pushing her up against the wall.

            “You sure about this?” Asami asked as Korra kissed her neck.

            “Mmm, yes,” Korra responded, slipping her hands under Asami’s shirt.

            “You really sure?” Asami asked.

            “You ask me again,” Korra said between kisses to Asami’s neck, “and I’m going to say kumquat to you speaking.”

            “In that case I do have some plans for my tongue,” Asami whispered.

            Korra shivered, in nervousness and anticipation.

            She tried to be the aggressor, she pushed Asami against the wall, but the taller woman was having none of that.

            In a deft movement, that caught even Korra by surprise, Asami spun her around and pushed her to the wall.

            “It’s your turn,” Asami said as she bit Korra’s lower lip. “I want to see you naked and squirming and moaning my name. Let’s see if I remember how to do this.”

            “Oh you massive tease.”

            Asami slipped her hands under Korra’s shirt and pulled it up, slowly, steadily, giving Korra plenty of time to object should she suddenly change her mind.

            There were no objections, no pleas to stop, only demands that Asami go faster. But the pale woman was very, very carefully controlling her speed and her desire. As much as she wanted to see Korra naked, to taste her again, she wanted to take her time, make sure she never made Korra uncomfortable or uneasy.

            “Too slow,” Korra said as she ripped off her shit and unhooked her bra. She kissed Asami and with each word she spoke, “You… me… bedroom… now.”

            “Yes ma’am,” Asami said as she picked up the tan woman who immediately wrapped her legs around her.

            Asami practically threw her girlfriend on the bed.

            “Holy fuck. You have the most perfect body,” Asami marveled. “God, I just want to eat you.”

            Korra had her arms in front of her chest, in an almost defensive position, almost like she was trying to not be noticed, to not be seen or have her scars examined.

            Her lips said I love you, but her eyes asked if Asami was sure.

            “I fucking love the shit out of you,” Asami said as she pulled off Korra’s pants.

            Her long fingers, her red lips, her tongue, everything was even better than Korra’ vivid memories. She made sure to move at exactly a pace that made Korra feel comfortable. Once she was given the very enthusiastic go ahead (“For fuck’s sake Asami, just fuck me with your tongue all... _Oh_ _god_.”) she had Korra screaming her name in no time.

            For the first time in a long time, Korra knew she was loved because she felt that love. The last year or so was hard, but feeling Asami’s attention to her, the physical translated the words that she head so often. Sex had become love, the two of them had become something more. And Korra was so happy she felt like she might explode.

            They lay in bed for a few hours just holding each other in post coital bliss. But they finally decided they needed food when Korra’s stomach started grumbling so loud it sounded like it was speaking German (which Asami found endlessly entertaining).

            Asami went to the bathroom to fix herself up for food as Korra found clothing on the floor to wear when her phone rang. She didn’t bother to look at the caller ID, she just answered it.

            “Hello.”

            “My my, someone’s an eager beaver. I thought after all this time I wouldn’t warrant an answer, much less on the first ring,” came an all too familiar voice.

            “Kuvira.”

            “Hey pumpkin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, every on board? This train is going express to the End of the Story. No stops, no detours, nothing. We've got three chapters left: Woman as Temptress (god I hate that chapter title, it just fits so well), Transformations of the Hero, and finally The Freedom to Live.  
> If we're lucky (protip: I am suuuuuper unlucky) we'll have this whole thing wrapped up by the end of the next week.


	11. Woman as Temptress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra meets with Kuvira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter title lifted from Hero With A Thousand Faces, and this one feels super misogynistic to me but it fits too damn well. >:(
> 
> OK quick warning: these next two chapters get a little non consensual in that kind of "I'm afraid to say no" kind of way. So be prepared for that. I'd skip the italics section in the middle if it really bothers you.

            _She was a Conqueror, she saw something she wanted and she took it. Nothing could stand between Katie and what she wanted, and what she wanted was me, even if I didn’t._

            “Korra?” Asami asked as she walked back into the bedroom, but the other half of the bed was empty. Muffled, quiet voices were coming from the living room.

            “What do you want?” Korra asked, immediately regretting the decision to pick up the phone.

            “What I’m not allowed to call up one of my favorite playmates?” Kuvira asked. “I’m hurt.”

            “No you fucking don’t,” Korra said. She was telling, yelling at, herself to hang up the damn phone, but she couldn’t, like always when it came to Kuvira she was paralyzed.

            “Look pumpkin, all I want to do is get a cup of coffee.”

            “No. I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

            “Come on, it’s just a cup of coffee,” Kuvira said. “You still doing that writing thing right? I bet you still need plenty of caffeine. And I’m only in New York for a couple of weeks.”

            Korra sighed heavily.

            “I’ll make it worth your while if you say yes.”

            “Fine.”

            “Tomorrow, three, you know where The Tea Nation is?”

            “Yeah.”

            “See you there pumpkin.”

            Korra hung up, not entirely sure how to feel. What the hell was going on? Why was Kuvira calling her at all? Doesn’t she remember how things ended? Doesn’t she remember how she ended it?

            “Korra? Everything ok?”

            Tell her, she’ll be ok with it. Tell her what? Tell her that my controlling ex, the one that broke me is in town and wants to get coffee and like a big fucking idiot I agreed because I can’t say no to her? How the fuck do you think that’s going to go over?

            “Yeah,” Korra sighed.

            “You want to talk about it?”

            “Not really.”

            “Whatever it is, you know I’ll be here for you, right?” Asami said, draping her arms around Korra’s shoulders.

            And that was what hurt the most, knowing that Asami was right, but Korra couldn’t bring herself to tell her. Perhaps it was out of fear of her old life. Perhaps it was because of who Kuvira was. Or maybe it was that unrecognizable fear that Korra knew she was better, she was stronger, more stable, not depressed, when she was with Kuvira, before Asami entered her life. Back then everything was simple and it was better then, wasn’t it?

            Korra didn’t sleep well that night. Her mind was plagued with fears, anxiety, and worries that she could be better than she was if any number of What If scenarios came to pass.

 

* * *

 

            _“Katie… I don’t know about this,” I said. “We can’t do this here, we’re going to get caught.”_

_The superior officer stood in front of me, her height adding to the position of power over me. Her confident smile, the glint in her green eyes was nothing short of commanding. “Relax there private pumpkin. As long as we are quick, we shouldn’t get caught.”_

_“Katie…” I tried to give voice to a complaint, a reservation, something to convey the feeling that having a quickie in the barracks, in the middle of the day, while the squad was on maneuvers was going to end badly. We’d get caught and the punishment would probably be quite severe._

_“Look, Chloe, it will be fine. Promise,” Katie said, her eyes unmoving, unblinking. Some kind of strength came out of it, or something that felt like strength. “Now Private, your commanding officer is ordering you to take off these damn pants.”_

_Suppressing a shiver I nodded._

* * *

 

            The next day, Korra sat in the coffee shop staring at the steam wafting off the mug of coffee, foot tapping a nervous tattoo into the floor.

            She was focused so hard on the coffee that she wasn’t drinking that she didn’t notice Kuvira until she had arms around her and kissed her neck from behind.

            “WHAT THE FUCK!” Korra yelled, almost ripping herself out of Kuvira’s grip.

            “Jesus pumpkin,” Kuvira said. “What made you so fucking jumpy all of a sudden?”

            Korra had so many things to respond to in that sentence, but she couldn’t speak because her heart was currently lodged in her throat and she couldn’t breathe much less speak.

            “Nice hair,” Kuvira said as she sat across the table from Korra. She crossed her long legs, and her foot rested against the inside of Korra’s knee.

            Korra shifted uncomfortably in her seat, unable to fully get away from Kuvira’s touch.

            “What are you doing in New York?” Korra asked.

            “I’ve been stationed here for a bit. I got a promotion and now I’m working under General Beifong,” Kuvira answered proudly. “It shouldn’t be long before I have her job though. Or maybe I’ll move over to the D.O.D. or something. Who knows, at this point the world is my oyster. What about you little Korra, you still doing that writing thing?”

            “Yeah,” Korra said tersely.

            “Oh that’s nice,” Kuvira said with a condescending tone that made Korra just want to punch her right in the face. “It’s still a shame that you dropped out of the military academy. You could have made such a good soldier. You always did rock the camo, and your abs, when you had them, were always things of beauty. But I see you’ve gotten soft in the years we’ve been apart.”

            Korra scowled.

            “What have you been up to pumpkin?”

            “Well I published a book not too long ago. And then I was shot three times in the chest saving my _girlfriend_ from a terrorist group,” Korra snapped, making sure to put extra emphasis on the girlfriend part.

            “Holy shit,” Kuvira said. “You ok?”

            “It was like six months ago, so yeah I’m fine now,” she snapped. But Kuvira’s face had softened.

            “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know.”

            “Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

            “Korra, really, I’m sorry. Are you ok? I’m trying to be sincere here. I still care about you, when everything is said and done.”

            And like that, like trying to hold water in her hands, Korra’s anger slipped away.

            “I’m better than I was,” Korra muttered back. Now she felt bad for being so short with Kuvira. “But it hasn’t been easy.”

            “You’re pretty strong, you’ll get through it,” Kuvira said reaching across the table and grasping Korra’s hands.

            She appreciated the gesture but Korra didn’t feel like being touched, she pulled her hands out of Kuvira’s.

            “So tell me about this new girl,” Kuvira asked with a wry little smile. “Has she figured out that thing you do when you nibble on your hip bone?”

            “What?”

            “Oh my god, have you not even slept with her yet?”

            Korra just glared at Kuvira.

            “You’re right, that was inappropriate. Sorry,” she said, standing up. “Look, I’ve got some stuff to take care of. We should get dinner sometime.”

            “Yeah, I’d like that.”

            Despite all of the shit Kuvira did, all of the weirdness in that conversation, talking to her made Korra feel like a teenager again. Happy, full of life, free from worry, and just alive again. The memories of times before all of the shit she went through, all of the heartache, the pain, the depression filled her. She just didn’t realize she was regressing, slipping back into bad habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters left. Here we go. I'm thinking this will all be wrapped up, said and done, soon. The next chapter is... raw for me so we'll see how quickly the editing is going to go. (probably not fast)


	12. Transformations of the Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra/Kuvira or Korra/Asami or maybe Korra Alone? Either way it all comes to an end here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last real chapter.  
> BEWARE things get pretty non consensual with Kuvira lurking around.  
> This chapter was a tough one for me, so I apologize if parts of it don't quite work.

 

> **I can't save you; there's nothing waiting for you; you had your chances, a credit that you blew**

**Korra:** Guess who’s back

 **Bolin:** Shady’s back? Back again?!

 **Korra:** Kuvira

 **Bolin:** WHAT?

 **Korra** : Kuvira is in town

 **Bolin** : I know what you’re thinking and DON’T DO IT

 **Korra** : We’re getting dinner tonight.

 **Bolin** : DAMN IT KORRA

 **Korra** : She was fine when we got coffee yesterday

 **Bolin** : DAMN IT KORRA

 **Korra** : What?

 **Bolin** : Does Asami know?

 **Korra** : …

 **Korra** : I just told her I was getting dinner with a friend.

 **Bolin** : And you neglected to mention it was the Queen Bitch that ripped out your still beating heart and buried it several miles underneath the surface of the Earth?

 **Korra** : … yeah

 **Bolin** : Trust me when I say this: just cancel on her. Don’t go. Stay home with Asami. She’s not worth it.

 **Korra** : I’ve got to go Bo.

 **Bolin** : Ho don’t do it!

 **Bolin** : Korra?

 **Bolin** : Korra?

 **Bolin** : Fuck.

 **Bolin** : I’m not picking up the pieces again. Because I’M STILL PICKING UP THE PIECES FROM THE LAST TIME KUVIRA DUMPED YOU.

 **Bolin** : Damn it Korra

            Korra slipped her still buzzing phone into her pocket as she entered the restaurant. Kuvira was already there waiting for her, sitting at the table with her back perfectly straight, hair back, and looking as strong and commanding as ever.

            She smiled like the cat who caught the canary, “Hey Korra, take a seat.”

            Korra took the open seat across from the impressive woman and instantly she sat up straight. Just being in her presence made her feel like a teenager again, a kid in military school.

            “So tell me about this book you wrote,” she started the conversation off.

            Korra talked about _Epilogues_ and the adventure of writing it and actually getting it published. Kuvira rested her head on her hands and watched Korra talk about all of the stuff that came with writing and her experiences with the book.

            “That sounds fun,” Kuvira said once Korra finally wound down talking about writing just as their food arrived.

            The tan one smiled brightly. God it felt so good to get back to the way things were, the way they should have been. Happy, easy, carefree.

            “How is the United States Armed Services?”

            Kuvira shrugged. “You know, fighting the good fight, keeping the world safe and free. I’m a Major now, so I don’t see any front line combat like I want to,” she said with a frown. “I’m just glad to not be in Iraq any more. Talk about a clusterfuck. Too much red tape kept us from really doing some good, killing the towel heads that needed to be killed and restoring order. Which is why I’m thinking of taking a job that was offered to me at the Department of Defense. I’d be in DC, which is super close to New York.”

            The prospect of having Kuvira so close, the idea that she could be in the city in just a couple of hours, possibly less, occupied all of Korra’s attention.

            She believed that part of the reason the relationship failed in the past was because of the inevitable distance between them, that inseparable gap, especially once Korra dropped out of the military and moved to Canada. She desperately wanted to bridge the divide, to get that close to her once again, to have that first love back again. It would be like going back in time, just forgetting all that pain and hurt and raw emotion. In her head it sounded exactly like what she wanted.

            Before Korra could respond the waiter brought the check.

            “I got this,” Korra tried to reach for it.

            But Kuvira slapped her hand away. “Please, I wouldn’t want to put the starving artist out.”

            “I’m not starving, I have money,” Korra responded.

            “Yeah, that’s because you’re living with your rich sugar momma,” Kuvira commented. “I’m sure if you were living on your own you’d be begging me to pay. It’s fine. The US government pays me quite well, better than a writer gets paid I’m sure.”

            “I was a New York Times bestseller,” Korra said under her breath.

            “Was.”

            Korra sighed and rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to try and fight Kuvira on something she wants.

            Together they left the restaurant.

            “So when I take this job in DC, I think we should continue this,” Kuvira said leaning in close to Korra, who could feel her warm breath on her neck and a roaming hand touching her ass. “You could be my New York wife.”

            “Kuvira… I can’t,” Korra said as she pushed the hand away.

            But the taller woman had other ideas, she pushed Korra up against the nearby brick wall and stuck herself in between Korra’s legs. Her lips were millimeters away from Korra’s.

            “Why? Because you have a girlfriend? So what. I bet she doesn’t know you half as well as I do. Does she know when you got Naga? Does she know why you dropped out of the military? Does she know about your fear of wheelchairs after breaking both your legs? Does she know exactly how to make you squirm in bed like I do? Does she know how much you like to be dominated from behind? Does she know your favorite color? Favorite show? Does she know that I conquered you first?”

            Korra’s heartbeat was racing out of control. She was excited, and horny, and goddamn did Kuvira know how to turn her on.

            “I shouldn’t…”

            “That’s why it’s fun,” Kuvira said, her lips still not quite closing that last little warm distance between them. Her hand was stroking up Korra’s thigh.

            “Kuvira… No…”

            She felt a forceful hand right at the crux of her legs, rubbing her through her pants. Korra shuddered.

            “No-“ she started, but she was cut off.

            Kuvira’s lips tasted of salt and smoke and she smelled of fire. Korra almost melted she felt exactly like she did the first time. Way the hell back when she was an impressionable seventeen year old, back when she was happy, when things were simple.

            “Mine,” Kuvira said with a bite as she pulled away from Korra. She brought her hand up to her mouth. “Remember that was mine first.” She turned away from Korra and hailed a taxi. “Call me when you break up with your fling, I can’t wait to bend you over a table and fuck you like we used to.”

            Korra could only whimper. The whole exchange took a few seconds, but to Korra it felt like a lifetime. She knew that she should’ve been stronger against Kuvira, taken a stand, but there was that damn teenaged part of her brain that was desperate to go back to the way things were before. As much as she didn’t want to, Kuvira knew exactly how to turn her on and push her right up to the edge.

            Just as Kuvira was getting into a cab three sharp cracks filled the night air. Firecrackers lit by some kids and thrown into the street.

            What Korra heard were gunshots. Gunshots that echoed in the steep walls of the street, that echoed in her mind and in her chest. She felt the wounds again, she felt the wet, cold blood seeping through the holes in her chest that rationally she knew had been closed, but her mind had shut down the rationalization.

            She found herself curled up on the dirty sidewalk, arms covering her head, as the firecracker echoes died and the ripples of the memory slowly faded from her mind.

            “It’s just some dumbass kids with firecrackers,” Kuvira said as she stepped into the cab. “Calm the fuck down. Call me when you’re done with your rich bitch.”

            Korra picked herself up off the ground, hands still shaking, mind still shaking. It felt so real. That sound made the memory real. She felt the bullets again, she felt like she was dying all over again. The memory was pervasive, invasive, it took over everything Korra had, her mind, her body, her feelings, and it left behind the knowledge that there was no going back. She was scarred and she was broken.

            Somehow, she didn’t remember getting into the cab, Korra found herself outside the building she lived in with Asami.

            Despite her better judgment, Asami was worried about Korra. It had been a while since she went to dinner with “a friend”. She had to keep reminding herself that Korra is an adult who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions.

            But still, it had been almost four hours now. Korra likes to eat food, but she’s hardly ever gone this long without responding.

            She tried to tell herself it wasn’t unreasonable paranoia that was causing her to pick up the phone and call Korra, again.

            But once again it went right to voicemail.

            “What the fuck?”

            Thankfully she wouldn’t have to wait long as a few moments later the phone rang, but this time it was the building security.

            “Miss Sato?” came the voice of Dale the head of security.

            “Yes. What is it, Dale?” Her heart was beating overtime. She could feel her pulse in her neck, the adrenaline already pumping into her veins was amplifying her worry a hundred fold.

            “Miss Korra is outside the building, and well, she doesn’t look so good.”

            “What happened?” She was already out the door, running down the stairs. Waiting for the elevator would require standing still which was something she was physically incapable of doing.

            “Physically she appears to be fine, but she isn’t responding to anyone nor is she moving from her position on the ground near the front doors. Should I call an ambulance?”

            “Hold on, I’ll be right down,” Asami cried as she practically jumped down the stairs.

            She was outside in record time. Dale, an imposing figure, showed her to where Korra sat against the wall of the building, brought up to her chest. Her blue eyes were staring into the street, but not reflecting it.

            Asami knelt down next to Korra and put a gentle, cool hand on her shoulder. Korra didn’t respond to the contact.

            “Korra? Korra honey?” Asami asked, trying super hard to keep the emotion out of her voice, but she was on the verge of panicking. What happened to Korra? What happened at dinner? Did someone do this to her? Has she been lobotomized?

            “Korra? Please look at me,” she pleaded quietly.

            Finally, Korra blinked.

            Asami put a gentle hand on Korra’s chin and turned her head slowly so she could look her in the eye.

            “Korra, baby, are you ok?” she asked.

            It felt like it was the first time she’d ever seen the sad, green eyed woman before her. For a second a name escaped her. She couldn’t tell where she was or even who she was.

            “Asami?”

            “Yeah,” she breathed a soft sigh of relief, letting go a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

            “No. I don’t think so. Where am I?”

            “Outside the apartment. Can you stand up?”

            Asami’s pale hand extended to Korra, to help her stand up. It felt like she hadn’t moved in days, her joints were frozen, her limbs heavy and sore. She swayed slightly, and the next thing she knew, Asami had swept her off her feet and carried her into the hotel.

            “Do you need to go to the hospital or anything?” Asami whispered.

            Korra shook her head. She felt drained.

            “Ok, we’re going to go upstairs and lay down,” she continued.

            The panic was leaving Asami like the tide going out, but replaced it was a deep, icy dread in her chest. Something was horribly, deeply wrong and she didn’t know what it was or how to fix it. That was Asami’s least favorite feelings in the world. Everything had to have a solution, a fix, right? But how does she fix a person? How does she fix someone she loves who is suffering?

            Inside their apartment, Asami laid Korra down on the bed and curled up next to her. She wrapped her arms around Korra’s middle and pulled her in close, her taller body surrounding Korra and an attempt to make her feel safe and loved.

            “What do you need me to do?” she asked.

            “Just stay right here,” Korra muttered.

            “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

            She said nothing. A silence covered them, stained them, like blood over a white shirt.

            Eventually, neither woman was entirely sure when, but they fell asleep.

            When Asami woke, it was to an empty bed, and that image scared her more than anything else possibly could.

            “Korra?” she called, cursing herself for sleeping so deeply she didn’t noticed Korra moving. “Korra?”

            “I’m in the kitchen,” Korra called.

            Asami almost ran to the kitchen. Her girlfriend was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of half-drunk coffee in her hand.

            “Are you feeling better?”

            She gave a noncommittal shrug.

            “Do you want to talk about it?” Asami asked gently, trying to find, somehow, a balance between perverse curiosity and proper levels of attention and a distinct desire to not see Korra in any more pain.

            “I have to apologize.”

            “No you don’t.”

            “Not…” Korra took a deep breath, keeping her gaze fixed squarely on the rim of the coffee cup, “-not for the episode last night. I heard some firecrackers and it felt like I was shot again and everything just kind of shut down. I don’t… -I couldn’t…” Korra took a series of deep breaths in a stalling tactic to get her brain thinking of the right words.

            In the meantime Asami descended into the chair next to her and grabbed Korra’s hand in her own. She held onto it like any moment Korra might slip away, this painful dream or beautiful nightmare might dissolve into an empty, lonely wakefulness.

            “Last night I saw Kuvira.”

            “Ex Kuvira? Your conqueror?”

            Korra nodded. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I was nervous, or ashamed is probably a better word, I guess. It was stupid and wrong and I shouldn’t have done it.”

            “Why? What happened?” Asami asked. Any jealousy she might have felt normally was currently dwarf by concern.

            “I thought I could handle it, but I mean she’s my first… My first everything. My first kiss, my first love, my _first_ … I couldn’t say no to her. That was the problem. I… -she… -we… -she kissed me. I told her no. I tried to tell her no. I know I should have fought her off or pushed her away or something, but we kissed and I knew it was wrong but Kuvira just gets inside my head and I can’t shake this feeling that I’m her little puppet to play with as she pleases.”

            Asami let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Did you think I’d be mad at you because someone kissed you without your consent?”

            Any other time, Asami suspects she would have been absolutely livid. But seeing Korra like, seeing how Korra has been the last couple of months. Those impossible lows, the gradually increasing highs; she was in absolutely no position to fight off anything.

            “It’s just she represents everything before I got to this point. Before I was depressed, before I was shot, before everything. I know I shouldn’t think it, but I thought that maybe, just maybe if I saw her again I could be happy again, be me again,” Korra muttered. She half suspected she would have been crying had she not dehydrated herself by crying basically all last night.

            “Korra, I’m not mad at you. You were in no position to consent to anything last night. I’m a little disappointed you didn’t think you could tell me.”

            The pair once again descended into an uneasy hell of tense quiet, neither one knew quite what to say next. The hurricane of conflicting emotions was back and raging in both of them.

            “What do you know about me?” Korra asked suddenly. “Like if someone asked you to describe me, what would you say?”

            Asami blinked and was momentarily stunned. This was an interesting change of topic. “Let’s see. You’re one of the most kindhearted people I’ve ever met. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not give money to any homeless people begging for change. You are willing to drop anything and everything to help someone in need. You are also one of the single most dedicated people I’ve ever met. You’ve done, what, almost fifteen books in like seven years? That’s amazing. You are a pretty good cook and an amazing lover. And I don’t just mean talented in bed. I mean you are this hopeless little romantic that I fucking love. You love all kinds of music, but when you’re writing, like seriously writing, you tend to put one song on repeat and zone out. Which concerns me that your top played song currently is fourteen hundred plays on a song titled ‘I Wish I Was Someone Better’. You’re also one of the strongest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You have all of this love inside and I see it in your eyes every time I look at you.”

            For the first time Korra looked up at Asami and gave her a sad little smile. She squeezed the pale hand in her own. “Thanks.”

            “I also know that you are fucking loved.”

            “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Korra muttered. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

            “I love you, you hear?”

            “I love you too,” Korra said as she stood up. Her face was calm, but determined, like she’d finally come to realization. “Thank you, seriously. But there’s something I have to do.”

            “Do you need help or support or something?” Asami asked.

            “I could use a ride,” Korra said. “And maybe a shower.”

            “I could do that.”

            Korra stepped out of Asami’s car and walked up to the coffee shop Kuvira told her to meet her at.

            She walked into the shop and immediately spotted the imposing woman, who smiled at Korra’s approach.

            “Finally come for the good stuff?” Kuvira asked as she reached out to try and pull Korra in for a kiss, but her hand was violently shoved aside.

            “No,” Korra said, her voice held more will and fire than it ever did the night before. “You and me, we’re done. Don’t call me again, don’t contact me. Just do me a favor and just don’t even think about me ever again.”

            “What the fuck are you talking about? Did you money leash put you up to this?”

            “No. I did this. I’m doing this. What was it you told me when you broke up with me the first time?” Korra asked, feigning like she didn’t know. It was worth it to see the color start to drain from Kuvira’s face. “Oh yeah, I remember now. I don’t love you anymore.”

            As Korra turned on her heel and left the shop with a stunned Kuvira behind her, the conqueror’s phone rang.

            While Korra was in the shop Asami was on her phone. She recognized Kuvira the instant she saw the face. The Army Major had sat in on several contract negotiations between the US government and Future Industries.

            “Get me General Beifong immediately,” she said more curtly than was necessary.

            “Who may I say is calling?”

            “Tell Lin that it’s Asami Sato calling about the contract. Tell her if she picks up right now I’ll start the negotiations at seven percent,” she said and then promptly went on hold.

            Not even ten seconds later Lin Beifong picked up the phone. “General Beifong speaking.”

            “Lin. The Future Industries negotiations. I’ll cap the cost increases at six percent if we close right now and you do a personal favor for me,” Asami said. The government and Future Industries had been haggling over the increase in price of the hardware Asami’s company was providing. The industry standard was for ten percent. The government wanted to pay seven, and Asami knew she could get eight out of them. The negotiation was a game and she knew how to play it. And when her company was worth billions of dollars, a single percent point could save or cost the government millions.

            “Name it.”

            “You have a Major working for you. At least I think she’s a Major. Named Kuvira?”

            “I know her, what’s this about? You want her in on the negotiations?”

            “Fuck no,” Asami responded instantly. “She’s been harassing my girlfriend. I was hoping you could transfer her somewhere very far away for a very long time. Like the Arctic Circle.”

            “Well for harassment and conduct unbecoming a member of the military I have a base in Antarctica that needs some new staff,” Beifong said, the last crew that displeased her, Lu and Gang, had been there almost three years now. It was about time to let them out. “I’ll have the transfer started as soon as you sign the paperwork agreeing to six percent.”

            “Done. I’ll have my secretary fax it to you within the hour.”

            Asami hung up the phone moments before Korra got in the car.

            “I’m ready to go,” Korra said.

            “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

            In no time at all the two women were back at the apartment.

            “Asami,” Korra said taking her hands and holding them while looking into her perfect green eyes that held so much life. “I’ve been thinking. And by that I mean for the last like two hours. These last two years have been fucking insane. I mean I’m still depressed as fuck, our relationship has basically defied every convention and ounce of common sense. I don’t know about you, but I feel almost trapped inside my own head. I’m still recovering from everything and then Kuvira comes and fucks everything up. I just… I think I need a vacation, a real one. Some time alone to get back to something resembling normal. I need to get out of the city. I need to get out of here.”

            Asami tried to swallow but there was a lump the size of a grapefruit in her throat. “This sounds like a goodbye. Don’t you do that to me Korra. Don’t you dare.”

            “What? No.” Confusion flashed across her face. “I wanted to ask if you could come with me. Take a long vacation. Together. Like two months long. Just the two of us.”

            Asami just pulled Korra into the tightest, most bone crushing hug she’s ever received (including every Bolin hug she’s ever received). “Don’t you ever do that again. It sounded like you were breaking up with me.”

            “I don’t think I could ever break up with you,” Korra admitted. “I don’t know if I could survive without you.”

            Asami leaned back, gave Korra a kiss and brushed away the worried tears that had sprung up. “Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here. Where do you want to go?”

            “Somewhere warm. With sand. And lots of water to swim in.”

            “We could go to my island.”

            “YOU HAVE AN ISLAND?” Korra yelled.

            “It’s not a big island,” Asami shrugged.

            “YOU HAVE AN ISLAND?”

            “It’s tiny! It’s barely two square miles.”

            “Naga! Asami has an island!” Naga barked, wagging her tail excitedly.

            “It has like one boat dock and a cabin barely bigger than this apartment. And it has no internet or cell service, so I don’t use it ever.”

            “While that sounds absolutely perfect, I don’t think I can ever forgive you for holding out the fact that you have your own private fucking island!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the soft ending for the story. Tomorrow: epilogues.  
> This story was one of the more difficult for me to write because for some reason my brain was like, "LET'S USE YOUR FUCKED UP PAST RELATIONSHIPS AS STORY FODDER! THERE'S NO WAY THIS COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!" :\  
> But whatever, we got to the end together.  
> You want to bother me or give me prompts: abronzeagegod.tumblr.com or my writing exclusive blog stalkedbytrains.tumblr.com


	13. Epilogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like Korra's novel we have a series of endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUUUUUUUUUU- *hacking cough* ugh, hairball... Anyways  
> FLUUUUUUUUUUUUUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. Fluff incoming.

            Asami and Korra spent four weeks on the not-so-tiny private island just the two of them, the sun, the ocean, the sand, and Naga. Even pale Asami developed some color, and Korra, as Asami put it, was a bronzed goddess that would give Athena envy.

            When the returned Asami went back to work and Korra went to therapy for the first time in her life.

            It was one thing to talk about her troubles with Asami, someone she knew and loved, but a complete stranger was something else. But like anything worth doing, it took time and effort and it was not easy. Eventually she opened up and truly started to work on getting better.

            It took almost two more years but Asami Sato had put Future Industries back on the map. All of the scandals, the litigations, the terrorist attacks, were all long in the past. She pushed, pulled, dragged, brought her father’s company into the modern era and was widely held as one of the most progressive companies on the planet.

            As Asami and Korra’s relationship deepened and strengthened, Marsha Blackwood suddenly seemed to be writing a whole lot of lesbian romance fiction much to the delight of some of her readers and to much eye rolling from Asami who was also credited as Blackwood’s “beautiful and sensuous muse”.

            Korra, however, hadn’t written under her own name since _Epilogues_ came out two years before.

            So every time Asami had to remind Korra to eat or found her dancing in her office chair as she smashed keys on the type writer, she just assumed it was more Blackwood novels.

            It came as quite a surprise to her when all of a sudden Korra presented her with a freshly bound novel.

            “What’s this?” Asami asked.

            “I finished my new book,” Korra said. “And I wanted your approval of it first.”

            “You’ve never needed my approval before,” she responded skeptically, hands brushing the perfect cover. “Not that I don’t _love_ the advanced copies of your Blackwood books, but why now?”

            “Well I just remember how pissed you got at me last time.”

            Asami looked down at the fairly thick book. The cover was all white, almost stark in its plainness. The only thing on the cover was a title in gold, “Love Isn’t as Easy as the Books Make it Seem”. A book mark occupied a space at the end of the book.

            She opened the cover and read the opening paragraph.

            “ _Hayley found herself in the airport bookstore desperately looking for something to read. She’d finished the book she brought with her and her massive ebook collection was not inspiring. The romance section was calling to her. If Hayley had a secret vice is was her love of harlequin romance novels. One title, which looked new considering it dominated one entire shelf, caught her eye. ‘_ The Writer and The CEO’”

            “You little shit,” Asami said with a little smile. “You wrote about us. Again!”

            “We’ve been together for like four years now! You should know me better than that!” Korra retorted with her little puckish grin.

            Asami smiled. “I’m just kidding. I don’t mind anymore.”

            “Well I wasn’t entirely honest. It’s not actually done,” Korra said, shuffling her feet nervously. “I don’t know how to end the story. I was hoping you could help me out with that.”

            Looking up from flipping through the beginning of the book, Asami looked up at Korra. “How do you think it should end?”

            “You tell me,” Korra said, urging Asami back to the book.

            Asami flipped some more pages until she opened to the bookmark, which wasn’t actually a bookmark. It was a long ribbon attached to a simple little silver ring with a small diamond on the top.

            “Well?”

            “Korra…”

            “Yeah?”

            “I…”

            “Yeah?”

            “Want you to get down on your knees and do this the right way. I want to hear you say it,” Asami smiled widely and tried to keep her happy tears and laughter and bubbling joy under control.

            Korra hastily descended to one knee and asked, “Marry me Asami Sato?”

            “Of course you dork!”

 

* * *

 

            Two months after Korra and Asami were married and six months after Korra’s second book under her real name was published the US Army Antarctic Research Base received an anonymous donation of two crates of books. One was Marsha Blackwood’s _The Warrior and the Conqueror_ and the other was _Love Isn’t as Easy as the Books Make it Seem_.

            Having already read everything to read in the base, Kuvira had no choice but to read both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok now we really are done.  
> That's it there is no more.  
> Stories over!  
> Bother me at abronzeagegod.tumblr.com or my writing blog stalkedbytrains.tumblr.com (which has a paypal donate button if you feel so inclined)
> 
> KBAI


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